Cracked Marble
by sanguinescriptor
Summary: Our skin is ice cold and hard like diamonds, but we are flawed. Fine lines where we should complete each other are empty. We are like cracked marble, but can we put ourselves back together after all this time? For almost a century, Edward and Bella have lived a life that neither imagined. Can an unexpected reunion in Forks repair it all? ExB/AU/OCs/M - for vampire violence
1. Chapter 1

**Cracked Marble  
**

Extended summary:

Growing up together in Chicago in the early 1900s, Edward Anthony Masen and Isabella Marie Swan knew they were going marry each other one day. They stuck together through thick and thin, even distance could not break their bond. In hopes of finally winning over Chief Swan, Edward goes off to war to prove himself. Promising to wait for him, Bella eagerly awaits his return. Unbeknownst to them—and miles apart—the two were saved from Death's door by vampires who changed them. Ninety years later their paths cross, can they find what they though they have lost forever?

* * *

_Chicago, Spring 1915_

**EPOV**

"Charles, I do believe your daughter is a better piano player than my boy, and it seems to have upset him greatly." By my father's tone, he sounded greatly amused by this, and it did little to dampen my ire. Ever since Bella upstaged me at last week's Piano Recital, people had been making all sorts of ridiculous statements. I was not mad at Bella but irate at those who went out of their way to tease me about losing to a girl. I was especially livid that everyone thought I was mad at Bella. On the contrary, I was mad at myself for slacking so much during lessons. I was quite proud of my best friend because I knew how hard she practiced for that recital. My mother was our piano teacher, and while I slacked off during lessons or played baseball with my friends, Bella practiced dutifully. What type of friend would I be if I begrudged Bella her hard won success? I did avoid her for a few days because my ego was wounded; after all, no one likes to lose, even to their best friends.

"Do you think the children will finally have a falling out?" Mr. Swan's voice tapered off as he took a sip of his brandy. I did my best to bite my tongue so they would not know that I was eavesdropping from my perch in the tree. Bella and I were the best of friends; a little argument would not change our relationship. As babies—according to our mothers—we were inseparable. As we grew, we learned that it was not socially acceptable for men and women to be so close. I accepted the rules but found that they did not apply to us. Bella and I were more than social mores. In public, we kept our polite distance because our families hated being talked about, but everyone knew the Masens and Swans often hosted dinner parties for one another; that was where Bella and I spent our time together.

"I doubt it. The way our wives look at them when we dine is a telling sign we have a big wedding to pay for in our future. My dear Elizabeth is keen to lock me out of the room if I suggest anyone else for Edward. I'm sure your Renee is the same." Bella's father nodded at my father's statement. Our mothers had been talking about our wedding since we were children, and most of the people who knew us, knew that we were going to be wed one day. The idea of my father arranging another marriage for me, even as a joke between him and Bella's father, made my heart pound violently in my chest.

"I know that everyone thinks that they are going to be married one day, but do you not think that they are too young? So many things can happen. By the time Bella has her debutante party, Edward is sure to be a faded memory." The bloody hell I would be, I wanted to shout at Bella's father. I always had the feeling that he did not like me or approve of me. I did not know why, as I was the perfect student, the perfect gentleman. I played great baseball. Bella's mother, Renee, adored me, and that is what really mattered. I knew, deep down inside, that if I wanted to marry Bella, I would have to win over her father, or he would never let me propose to her.

My father turned to face Mr. Swan. "Charles, I cannot shake the suspicion that there is something you have been avoiding telling me. You have been rather odd for weeks now; is there something wrong? Did my son do something?" Bella's father swallowed hard, obviously choosing his words carefully. All of a sudden, I felt my stomach knot up. I could not see Mr. Swan's face, but my whole body grew tense. He was going to say something that was going to change my life. It was as if I could read his thoughts and knew, just knew that what was coming was not good. I leaned over the branch I was on, staring down at them as I waited for Mr. Swan to speak.

"Now, you well know that your son is perfect; too perfect, actually. I admit that I have tried to find a reason to reproach him, but it is hard when the child is so well behaved. It is hard having a daughter. I know you and your wife really wanted one, but they can be a handful. Just thinking about Bella growing up, of suitors attempting to court my daughter, drives me crazy."

My father laughed. "Suitors, Charles? We well know that my son has no competition. I am certain that our wives would faint if Bella allowed anyone but Edward to court her."

"You would be right if my girl had her debutante season here. Things I did not have to previously ponder about her growing up consume my thoughts now, driving me to distraction. You Masens are very observant. I have been acting oddly but with good reason. You know that promotion that I have been pursuing at work? Well, I got it; I have to relocate the family to New York this summer."

Mr. Swan's words were like a punch to my gut. Bella moving away? Impossible! Unable to keep my grip, I lost my balance, hitting my head hard on a thick branch before I landed awkwardly on my left arm. I heard the snap and knew my arm was broken. The pain that radiated from my injuries was nothing akin to the one that bloomed in my chest. I knew I was going to be severely punished, but I did not care.

"No, Mr. Swan, Bella cannot leave!" I cried out as my dad leaned over me, worry and anger twisting his features, before the pain of my injuries finally dragged me into unconsciousness.

**xxx**

**BPOV**

It took all of my strength to remain seated in the Masens' sitting room as Dr. Carlisle Cullen treated Edward in his room. I was alone in the room for now, and I let my thoughts wander over the many things that had transpired today.

The news that my family was moving to New York in the summer broke my heart when my father informed me while I had breakfast. With such horrible news to start my day, I did not expect my day to be any better. I loved Chicago, I loved Grant Park in the summer, and I loved my best friend Edward. I begged my father at breakfast to let me be the one to tell him, and he agreed. The rest of the morning, between bouts of wanting to throw a tantrum, I practiced sounding cheerful at the prospect of exchanging mail and weekly phone calls in lieu of our daily chats. From what I gathered from the conversation I had with my father, he would be breaking the news to Mr. Masen this afternoon while Edward was off in the park playing baseball, and I would be at my biweekly piano lesson.

By midafternoon, I was only half-heartedly listening to Mrs. Masen as she tried to teach me the third movement of Debussy's_ Suite bergamasque. _ "Oh, Isabella, dear, you have to focus! You are making the same mistakes we covered last week. It is like you are not here at all!" I looked down at my hands, unable to look up at her. I was ready to apologize when the door leading to their backyard was thrown open and in came Mr. Masen with an unconscious Edward in his arms.

In a panic, Edward's mother left me to my devices as she called for a doctor. The wait seemed eternal, but Dr. Cullen came and quickly went to work on Edward. A broken left arm and a nasty bump on his head were the sum of Edward's injuries as a result of him falling out of tree in his parents' garden. I quickly put two and two together and reasoned that Edward fell after he overheard our fathers talking about the move to New York. The shock of the news must have startled him and led to his fall.

I was so consumed by my thoughts that I did not see or hear Mrs. Masen return to the sitting room and sit beside me. Having been caught unawares, I blushed scarlet as I gave her my full attention. "Dr. Cullen has set Edward's broken arm and assures us that he will be fine. The doctor wants to give Edward a sedative, but he refuses to take it until he sees you. Would you like to go upstairs and see him?"

I nodded eagerly, relieved that my friend would be okay. I started to make my way out of the room when Mrs. Masen pulled me into a tight, fierce hug. "Oh, child, the world is a strange place, but do not be sad. I have always known since the day I met you that you were meant for my son. Someway, somehow you two will be reunited." I envied the way she managed to inject positivity to any situation. "Go on, honey, he's waiting." Giving Mrs. Masen the best smile I could muster, I made my way upstairs toward Edward's room.

I took many deep, calming breaths standing just outside his room, trying to fortify myself before seeing Edward. Dr. Cullen opened the door wide, and I took a moment to take in how much his room had changed since I last saw it. Gone was the big trunk of stuffed toys we would play with for hours as our mothers sat nearby and chatted on days the weather did not permit us to go outside. Edward's personal piano swallowed a good portion of his room, and there were some compositions strewn about on a desk. He had just taken up writing original pieces himself.

"Hey! Guess what, Bella? I fell out a tree!" Edward's attempt at a joke did not quite reach his eyes. My best friend looked horrible; the lump on the side of his head looked terrible and I winced, wondering how he was still conscious. Mr. Masen held out the chair he had just vacated for me and placed it closer to the bed.

Sitting down, I took Edward's good hand between my own. "Of course you did. You may have the face of a monkey, but you are not one," I replied trying my best to make light of the situation.

"Edward, Isabella, given today's events I will give you two some time to discuss things. Isabella, dear, no matter what Edward says, please do not let him stay up longer than he has to. I will be waiting outside; just let me know when you two are done," Mr. Masen said as he slipped quietly out of the room. Now that it was just the two of us, the tears I had valiantly attempted to keep at bay all day flowed freely, and the six words that I had chanted in my head all day burst out of me in a rushed sob.

"I do not want to leave!" I said, crying hysterically.

"I do not want you to go!" Edward replied, gripping my hand.

I was crying so hard that I was momentarily blinded. Gasping for air, I pulled my hand out of his to brush away my tears. "Oh, Edward, boys are not supposed to cry," I said taking liberties and brushing his tear stained cheek with the back of my right hand.

"They do when they're in pain," he replied, reaching out for my hand again and lacing our fingers together. "My arm and head hurt something awful, but it is nothing compared to the pain of the thought of losing you."

"You will never lose me! We have all spring left and maybe early summer. I do not exactly know when my father is relocating, but I imagine a move like this takes months to plan. When I move, we can write, and maybe our parents would let us call each other once a week," I said eagerly, trying my hardest to put a positive face on the situation.

"It would not be the same, Bella." He sounded so sad that fresh tears stung my eyes, but I steeled myself against them. I had always been the cool, logical one growing up. Edward was too, but only when he wanted to be. He could be so mercurial sometimes.

"I know, but at least we will still be able to keep in touch. That has to count for something right?" He grimaced as he tried to turn over in his bed, and I was tempted to call for his father. From my position, the lump on his head looked vicious and painful.

"No, please do not call my father. I do not want to sleep. Bella, I want to stay up talking with you," Edward whispered. "I keep telling myself that this is a bad dream, and I will surely wake up. If I go to sleep—if I sleep—then this is real. I desperately wish this is a bad dream."

"I do, too," I replied. "However, I really should go and let you rest, Edward." He whined, muttering something incomprehensible. It was clear to me that his injuries were bothering him, and that was my cue to leave. Reaching out, I brushed his hair away from his face and winced again at the lump that only seemed to have grown since I came in. I could feel Mr. Masen's presence just outside the room, and if I didn't end this session soon, he would. "We have to be brave," I said, letting go of his hand. "I have to go, but I will return after school tomorrow and, hopefully, I can get Nellie to bake you some get-well sweets." Looking over my shoulder to make sure his father was not looking into the room, I leaned over Edward and pressed a quick kiss against his temple, before turning quickly to leave.

"Of course you can come see him tomorrow," Mr. Masen said as he walked me down the street to my residence. He had stayed within earshot of Edward's room while I talked with his son. After all, it was highly indecent for a girl to be left alone with a boy who was not a relative without supervision. "In fact, you are welcomed over anytime you want for the next few weeks while Edward heals and serves his punishment." I bit my lip at his proclamation, thinking that it was highly unfair given today's events. Mr. Masen stopped, and I looked up to see we were already at my front door.

"He was eavesdropping on a conversation that was not meant for his ears, Bella. Edward's fall is a direct result of his misdeed, and while we should all be thankful that he is not worse for wear, what he did needs to be addressed. His punishment, therefore, is not unwarranted." I wanted to stand up for my friend, but it was difficult to come to his defense. "Oh, Isabella, your face is an open book. I know you think it is unfair that Edward is going to be punished, but what he did was a gross violation of privacy."

Having safely escorted me home, Mr. Masen informed my parents that I was welcomed over to see Edward during his recovery before departing. I sat through supper in a haze, picking at my food and deep in my own thoughts. Excusing myself early, I quickly bathed and retired to my room. Alone, the cool bravado that I had shown for Edward's benefit finally faded and hot tears burned a path down my cheeks as I clutched the giant stuffed bear he had won for me last summer at the carnival. I tried to fight off sleep, but it finally claimed me. I knew that tomorrow was the beginning of the end.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

:Waves: Welcome to my new story. It has been a long, long time since I've written a story. The end of the movie franchise has made me nostalgic and that sentiment turned to giving writing a story another go. I'll like to thank the awesome folks at Team Project Beta for their awesome work. In regards to the story, it is going to be a slow burn, I hope you like it. Reviews are always welcomed :D


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Chicago, June 1915

**EPOV**

My fourteenth birthday party was a grand affair. I received many wonderful presents; chief among them was the new baseball glove Bella got for me. I was eager to break it in soon, wanting to test my left arm to see if I could still throw with it as well as I had before I broke it. Weeks of recovery and the confinement that followed as punishment for snooping had left me with a bad case of cabin fever. I was tired of only being allowed out as far as the garden, but I knew better than to protest—after all, I was caught eavesdropping. Mercifully, my father allowed Bella to visit, and it made my confinement bearable. As spring began to give way to summer, we tried our hardest to ignore the fact that her time in Chicago was slipping away. By how little belongings remained in the Swans' residence, I knew that it was only a matter of time—weeks at best or days at worst—before she left for New York.

Throughout the party, I could not help noticing that Bella's smile or laughter did not quite reach her eyes. Unlike other parties, we were not together all the time. She lingered beside her parents, talking to others about the move—it was clear that she was stressed. I tried to find her lone so we could talk, but as the night progressed, I never got a chance. In fact, after having lost sight of her, I started to panic, thinking that her parents had taken her home early. I was frantically trying to spot her in the house when one of the servers working at the party handed me a note with instructions to find her in the garden.

"Bella?" I whispered as I approached the garden, trying to find her in the dark without others noticing that I had left the party. I heard her before I saw her; she was sitting on one of the wrought iron chairs, and sobs were wracking her form as she cried. "Talk to me, what is wrong? Why are you crying?" I asked, taking the liberty of cupping her face between my hands and stroking away the tears that flowed with my thumbs. My stomach cramped, dreading what she was about to tell me.

"A week, I leave, in a week," Bella stammered through her tears, her words coming out in between broken sobs that she could not contain. Like the first time I heard about her leaving, each word felt like a blow to the body. My hands fell to my sides as I knelt in the dirt at her feet. In a mere seven days, my best friend would be gone! Anger coiled in my stomach, it was so unfair. We were meant to be together; being apart from her was just blasphemous.

"A week," I repeated, stunned and in pain. I wanted to throw things, scream at her father for taking her away from me. Why could he not just be happy here being one of the biggest cops in Chicago? There had to be a solution to this, something I could do to prevent this! "Run away with me, Bella!" I exclaimed before I knew what I was saying.

"No, Edward, that is crazy! Where would we go?" She looked at me as if I had gone mad. It was a crazy idea, but I had nothing else to go on. Being apart from her was just an unbearable concept. If we ran away, it would be hard, nay it would be impossible, but at least we would be together.

"We can hobo on the trains, join the circus." I was clutching at straws and I knew it. My own words sounded foolish to my ears. The correct thing to do was to let her go. I could wait four years for Bella. Once I turned eighteen, I would go after her in New York. Her father would finally give us his blessing; we would get married and move back to Chicago. I told her as much, and she nodded, agreeing with my plan. I stood up, brushing as much dirt off as I could before I offered to escort her back. We walked slowly, in no rush to rejoin the others, hugging the shadows to avoid being seen. I signaled that she should go in first and that I would follow a few minutes later. As she turned to leave, I reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward me.

"Wait," I said, cupping her face between my hands before I pressed my lips against hers. One day she would be my wife; I reasoned with the uptight, proper voice in my head that chastised me for being so forward. I tasted the saltiness of her tears, the sharpness of the strawberry tarts eaten at the party, but above all, I tasted the sweetness that was Bella. I wanted desperately to deepen the kiss, but I let her go; after all, we needed something to look forward to at the wedding. I watched her take an uneasy step toward the house; once she got to the door, she quickly looked back at me before slipping inside and disappearing within the crowd. I stayed outside longer than needed, replaying the kiss in my thoughts. We kept our distance once we were back inside; all I was thinking about was pressing her into a corner and kissing her again. I tried to think of anything else, but it was a moot point.

**xxx**

**BPOV**

The last few days bled into one another, and the only markers of time for me were the moments I spent with Edward. My parents, who first contemplated a quiet low-key going away party, instead settled for a giant party to be held on Thursday, just two days before we left for New York. As Thursday approached, my mood grew dark and bitter, so unlike my usual bright demeanor. I could not tolerate my mother's enthusiasm for the party; she rented fine china, pianos, and hired help since many of our maids were in New York preparing our new home for arrival. It felt more like a funeral to me, and I acted like it. During the party, I was polite enough to the guests but made it clear that I was not in a partying mood. By the looks my father shot me, I knew a lecture loomed in my future, and frankly, I did not care one bit. I spoke mainly to Edward or his parents, especially his mother whose piano lessons I would greatly miss. Ever observant, she noticed the tension, and that the rest of the guests had started to pick up on it.

"Isabella, Edward, would you two please play the piano for us? I am sure the guests would appreciate it greatly to see your talents on display one last time." Edward's mom was a genius; with one request, she managed to lighten the tension that had crept up on the party. I sat beside him and smiled softly as we started to play the first movement of Debussy's_ "Suite bergamasque" _together. I stopped playing as he began the second movement; sitting back on the bench, I marveled at his speed and skill. Lost in my thoughts, I almost missed my cue to start playing the third installment, my masterful solo. I gave myself to the music, my fingers flying gracefully over the keys.

"Let us show them all that we are good together, Bella," Edward spoke softly in my ear. I smiled, understanding his meaning as I reached the end of my piece. The final movement of Debussy's_ "Suite bergamasque" was_the most ambitious piece in the entire suite, but his mother taught us both to play it as a duet. It was our ace at piano recitals and competitions. By the time we finished, the room erupted in applause; and Mrs. Masen beamed with pride at her two best students. I rode that high for the rest of the party, but as the party came to a close, all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed. I plastered the most convincing smile I could manage and stood beside my parents bidding people goodnight. The last to leave were the Masens, and I wished I had more time alone with Edward, that he would kiss me again. His parents lingered at the door, and I was thankful for that. I smiled brightly, shielding my pain and trying desperately not to cry.

Edward moved to stand at my side and slowly moved his hand to brush it against mine before he turned to address my parents. "Mr. Swan, would it be okay if Bella could meet me in Grant Park tomorrow? I would really like to spend some time with her before she leaves Saturday. Please?" I stared at my father, silently begging him to agree to Edward's request.

"Yes she may. After all, her belongings are already packed, so there is not much for her to do around the house. I will have Nellie prepare a basket for you two." Edward breathed a sigh of relief and thanked my father before he finally departed with his parents. For the first time in many nights, I went to bed without crying and slept without waking up from a nightmare.

As far as chaperons went, Nellie was a fantastic one. Stern in front of my parents, but she was a real softie. Nellie was like a second mother to me, and I was sad when she informed us that she was not relocating to New York with us. My father offered to find her employment with another family in Chicago, but she declined. Having worked for the Swan family for two generations, she could not fathom working for another and was looking forward to her hard won retirement.

I found Nellie in the kitchen the next day, putting final touches to our picnic lunches. The rich aroma of her strawberry tarts greeted me, and I looked around for them to pinch one. Eager to get to the park, I helped her pack the basket and managed to steal a tart while she was not looking. Once we were out of the house, I all but dragged her to Grant Park, begging her to walk faster. I knew nothing of Edward's plans for today, and the curiosity was killing me. A few minutes later, we finally found him by the Fountain of the Great Lakes. We sat in the grass eating our lunches while Nellie sat nearby on a bench, complaining that she was too old and her bones too stiff to be idling in the grass like a child. We ate quietly, slowly, neither of us in a rush. As we ate dessert, Nellie's soft snoring greeted us. This must have been something he was counting on because as soon as he heard her snore, he stood up and started packing away the remnants of our lunch. Once everything was put away, he pulled me to my feet and we walked along the path that looked out over the lake. I looked behind me to see that we were a quite a distance from Nellie but still visible if she were to wake and look for us.

Once we were a bit away, he tugged on my sleeve, pulling me down to sit with him on the grass again. "I have come to terms that this is a reality, but there is a part of me that still clings to the notion that this is all a bad dream. I am going to miss you so much." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper and held it out for me. "I won't be with you for your birthday, so I wanted to make sure you got my present early," Edward said, handing the paper to me. I unfolded it carefully and did not stop myself from crying out at what I saw. He had composed a song for me! I ran my fingers over the notes on the paper, hearing the tune in my head. I was speechless and deeply moved by his present. Standing up, he reached down, pulled me up against him, and kissed me. This kiss was different from the one at his birthday party, not as rushed. The heat of the sun was rivaled by the warmth of his lips on mine. I felt his hands cup the nape of my neck and tilted my head back as he deepened the kiss. Wrapping my arms around him, I returned his kiss. It was the lack of oxygen that finally pulled us apart; his piercing green eyes stared into mine as he brushed his thumb over my kiss-swollen lips.

"I will play it every day, I promise. I will even try to write something for you. It probably will not be as good as yours," I said sheepishly. His only response was to laugh, closing the little bit of space between us.

"When I kissed you, I could hear your heartbeat." Edward's voice was muted as he pressed another kiss against my temple, his fingers lazily twirling my hair. "It is the most beautiful song ever; I strongly doubt you can compose something superior." We stood like that for a while, hugging one another, with my head resting on his shoulder. If I were to be asked, I truly would not be able to say if it was mere seconds or minutes. However long it was, I wanted more; it was not enough. Nellie's call finally broke our embrace; knowing that she was always on our side, we walked hand in hand toward her. As we walked home, Nellie gave us a minute alone to properly say goodbye on the back porch, warning us to behave in case there were any eyes watching. Oh, if she only knew what happened at the park!

We hugged tightly as I tried my hardest not to cry; I kissed his cheek and melted into his arms, returning his tight embrace. Edward looked like he wanted to kiss me again but refrained and for once, I initiated the kiss. I kissed him with everything I had; I wanted him to remember me like this. I wanted to remember how much I loved him. In the distance, I heard Nellie clear her throat and we pulled apart for the very last time. The last thing I saw my best friend do was press his fingers against his lips as he started walking home. I hope he felt the same burning sensation his kiss left on mine. I stood on the porch for a long time until Nellie finally pulled me inside and closed the door.

* * *

_Author's Note_

Hey so Happy New Year everyone! I hope you enjoyed the chapter :) Chapter 3 is all but done, just needs to tweaking and I hope to have it out soon. I'll like to thank the awesome folk over at Project Team Beta for their fantastic work as always. Keep those reviews coming and thanks for reading! 3


	3. Chapter 3

**BPOV**  
_Summer/Fall 1915_

I loathed this city. I hated everything about it, with the exception of Central Park, which I had grown to love. A month after moving, my mother managed to find me a new piano teacher, and honestly, I did not like him. I found him to be so woefully inept to the point that I feared taking his lessons. Playing the piano became a chore instead of something I did out of love. The city was a poisonous monster that managed to drive a wedge between my parents and me. With every passing week, I disliked them more, and this move, this new city, was to blame. Before moving, I had a wonderful relationship with my parents. A relationship that had eroded with every passing week; the bulk of my bitterness was directed at my father. At his feet I laid the majority of the blame. Why did he have to move in the first place? My mother's enthusiasm was what soured our relationship. Oh, she just loved New York, especially the city's social life. Our house was not even in proper order before she threw our housewarming party. My mother was so focused on making a good impression; she wanted to make sure we met the other police brass families. She wanted me to make friends quickly, telling me that the kids here would most likely be my classmates when school started. I did not want to think of the start of school or my coming birthday, the first one I would celebrate without Edward.

I did not like the city as much as my parents seemed to enjoy it. It appeared that New Yorkers liked to party; every other week or so, someone was throwing a party or a gathering. My parents made it a point to attend them all, while I got inventive and managed to fake being ill to stay at home in my room. After a couple of events, my parents caught on that I was lying about being sick. I got into a huge fight with them and my father's idea of punishment was to take me to every single gathering. At that point, I barely tolerated my mother and loathed my father. I was dragged along to all the events, but I made sure to show everyone how far from festive my mood was.

As the summer started to come to an end, my mother turned her focus to my upcoming fourteenth birthday. Having only just arrived into the city a few months prior, my mother thought it would be a great idea to throw me a giant party. Her enthusiasm grated on my nerves. I begged off the idea; after all, it would not be a party for me without Edward, my friends, or Nellie's chocolate cherry cake. I suggested a quiet evening instead or catching a Broadway show as a family, but my suggestions fell on deaf ears. When my mother told me that the invitations were already in the mail, I wanted to scream. She showed me the guest list, preening proudly as if she had accomplished a wonderful thing. Were my feelings not taken into consideration at all? Over the two weeks leading up to my birthday, she had almost every seamstress in the city measure me for a dress. It was clear to everyone involved in the planning that my mother was more excited about the party than I was.

I did not hide my disdain during the party. I was cold and distant the whole night, my behavior minimally polite. I spent more time in my room, reading the cards my friends in Chicago sent me than I did mingling at the party. By the time the last guest departed, I was only able to count to five before my father, who was visibly livid, summoned me downstairs. I knew I was going to hear a long lecture, and I sat down without saying a word. He launched into a tirade about how rude my behavior was and how I embarrassed them in front of their new friends and acquaintances. How ungrateful I was after they had gone through so much to throw me a party.

"Well, Isabella, what do you have to say for yourself?" My father's question only fueled my ire. In retrospect, I knew that I have said things differently, but I was tired of holding it in. Tired of holding all this anger and hurt inside, of biting my tongue and keeping up appearances.

"Why should I say anything? After all, what I say or feel is ignored. I did not ask for this party, so there is no need for me to be grateful for it. I begged off this party. Do either of you remember that? How was this party for me, when it was attended by people I hardly knew?" I snapped back angrily before I could bite my tongue. I had never spoken to my father like that.

"You are being ridiculous! This is all about Edward, is it not? This rebellious streak of yours will not be tolerated, young lady!" my father snapped at me; I had never heard him so angry. How dare he? All of this was his fault! Oh, and to bring Edward into this, that was just inexcusable.

"This is not just about him!" I shouted back at my father, standing up and glaring at him. "Do you know what my life has been like since we moved here? I miss Chicago, and yes, I miss Edward terribly, but I also miss my other friends! I miss Nellie and how the whole week leading up to my birthday, she would cook my favorite things. I miss the life I had, but what I miss the most is having parents that cared more about their daughter than their social standing!" I clamped my hands over my mouth, but there was no way to take back what I just said. My mother gasped and clutched my father's arm for support. It felt good to get all of these things off my chest, even if I was mortified. My father looked murderous, his right hand clenching and unclenching as if he was contemplating striking me. I stepped back in fear, not knowing what to do. This was a side of my father I had never seen, and I was scared witless.

My father snorted in anger. "Only a coward would strike a woman, especially their own daughter. Oh, but I am tempted. This conversation is over. You will attend every event unless you are truly ill, you w act properly, and you cannot speak to or write to Edward for the next two months. Do you understand me?" I stared at my dad in horror no communication with Edward? How could he! I opened my mouth to speak, but the look my father shot me made me swallow my words. "Go to your room, Isabella. I cannot bear the sight of you anymore."

_Spring 1916_  
New York in the spring was beautiful, and my dislike of the city had melted as the months passed. My relationship with my parents never truly recovered from the horrible fight that we had on my birthday, and I found solace within the city's many distractions. I still hated my new school; I disliked a good portion of my peers because they were complete morons. They thought it was humorous to tease me over what they considered a "country" accent. After a few weeks of school, I grew tired of correcting them; after all, I would be surprised if one of them could point to my beloved Chicago on a map anyway. Thankfully I had lost the "it" factor of being the new girl, so I was allowed to blend into the background.

The new piano teacher, who I started to take classes with after the holidays, was a lot better than the one I first had. Old Mrs. Cope looked as if a strong wind gust would knock her down, but she played the piano like a woman possessed. When I showed her the composition Edward wrote for me, she ooh'd and ahh'd over it, finding the idea of us being separated romantic. I told her that I wanted to write one for him for his upcoming birthday, and she agreed to teach me how to compose music. We worked on Edward's birthday present at least once a week, and I was so excited with the progress that I was making that I could not wait to see the completed piece.

My life had settled into a familiar routine. I had piano lessons with Mrs. Cope thrice a week, worked dutifully on a composition for Edward's birthday that sounded better with every passing day, followed by going to any social gathering my parents were scheduled to attend. I found these boring but endured them silently. Angela Weber, the only friend I managed to make here since I moved, was often at the same parties, and we took to hanging out together, secretly mocking the attendees. Debutante parties were all the rage and I could only cringe in horror at what my mother had planned for me next year.

**xxx**

**EPOV**  
_Spring 1916_

The months after Bella left were extremely difficult for me. Talking to her over the phone or receiving a letter from her was still so strange to me. It took a while to get accustomed to not having her nearby. On more than one occasion, I gathered that she was not adjusting well to New York because of the conversations our parents had over the phone. Bella had seemed resigned to our fate when she left, chastising me for my silly idea of running away. However, once in New York, she had become unruly according to her parents. The idea of her misbehaving was highly amusing to me; as the daughter of the cop—the top cop actually—Bella had a reputation of being a goody two-shoes. It was my favorite thing to tease her about—was she rarely did anything that got her punished or sent to bed without supper. My parents' shock at the news that Bella was misbehaving annoyed me. Could our parents really be that dense? Even the best kid would crack after being dragged away from everything and everyone they knew.

Apparently, things must have really gotten bad the night of her birthday since her father punished her for two months, barring her from communicating with me or anyone else here in Chicago. I found the punishment unfair, and I bet it only poured more fuel on the fire. By the time her punishment was over, Bella was a completely different person. The letters she sent covering the two months she was unable to communicate were heartbreaking. She was miserable there, unhappy with school and the change in the relationship she had with her parents. She only spoke happily about a friend she made at school named Angela, who she credited with making all the social events her parents took her to bearable. The sign-off on her letters was now bits of the composition that she had started to work on for my birthday.

_Summer/Fall 1916_  
My birthday present arrived handwritten on parchment—a fantastic touch really—signed by both Bella and Mrs. Cope, her piano teacher. According to my mom, the composition was a masterpiece. I ran my fingers over the notes, and my fingers itched to run to my piano and play them. It was clear to see the great masters who influenced her work and her development as both a player and a composer. It took longer than I thought to learn the composition correctly. Bella's delicate fingers were faster than mine were, and there were sections of her composition that I thought I would never get right. Once I learned it, I played often, mainly on my mother's request. Bella's letters over the rest of the summer showed that at least her mood had improved. She did not talk much about her parents, stating that the relationship with them was strained but amicable. Her letters also spoke of how at least New York as a city had grown on her, its residents were another story; she still complained about New Yorkers. Her letters grew sad again, as her birthday approached and she was ill at ease with the fact that her parents were throwing her another party. I reminded her that at the very least this time she had Angela to keep her company at her party.

After her birthday, I noticed that I was receiving fewer letters from her and our phone conversations grew scarce. Every time I managed to call, she was occupied according to her father. In the back of my mind, I started to wonder if Bella's feelings had changed. On more than one occasion, I had called to speak with her, only to be told by her father that she was not home or that she was otherwise occupied. Unease settled in the pit of my stomach I feared that I was losing her all over again.

**xxx**

**BPOV**  
_Fall/Winter 1916-17_

"If you doubt my word, child, then seek out the truth out for yourself, but I know what I saw. Your father has not mailed out any letters your Edward recently, and on more than one occasion, he has informed the young man over the phone that you are occupied but will return his call." At first, I did not want to believe what Mrs. Cope was telling me. I understood what she told me, but I could not wrap my head around the information.

"Please, Mrs. Cope, are you sure that what you are telling me is correct? I cannot fathom why my father would be doing this to me." It made sense, but I did not want to believe. Oh, to think that I started to believe that Edward's feelings for me had changed, when it fact it had been my father's interception of our letters all this time. Mrs. Cope had to be wrong, maybe she misinterpreted what she saw, but I needed to find out for myself.

I always left the letters for Edward with my father in his study on Friday night, and he in turn would mail them on his way to work. Armed with the information that I was given, I brought up the lack of letters or any correspondence at supper, fishing for a reaction from my father. I pretended not to notice the look my parents exchanged, letting me know that if my father was intercepting letters, my mother was in on the plan. That hurt because I always believed my mother to be the biggest supporter of my relationship with Edward. Before retiring for the night, I told my father that I left another letter to mail out and he was too quick in promising to mail it out promptly.

My father was usually gone by the time I woke up in the morning, but this time I made sure to wake up before he did. The windows in the piano room faced the road and gave me a clear view of the street. I waited until I saw my father exit our house and head down the street there was no envelope in his hand and I had purposely made it so the envelope would not be easily folded. Determined to get to the bottom of things, I exited the room quickly and dashed to my father's study. Tiptoeing inside, I searched his desk. Stuffed into the back of a deep drawer were all the letters I had sent out over the last few weeks and beside them were letters from Edward that were not given to me. I sat back stunned and angry Mrs. Cope was right. Edward must think the worst of me now, the same thoughts I had when I believed he was forgetting me. None of our letters were opened at least in that regard, my father had some respect for us. The only opened letter was addressed to my father from Mr. Masen. I reached for it and started reading, hoping that it would shine some light on what my father was up to.

_Charles,_

_Elizabeth is absolutely livid with me and about this whole situation. I admit that this seems to be doing more harm than good. My son is upset, angry, and starting to question Isabella's love. I could only imagine what she must be thinking of my boy. How supportive of this is your Renee? I agree that our kids are too close, too wrapped up in the idea that they're meant to be together, but what will happen when they find out about our interference? As a lawyer, I can tell you that we are wrong to tamper with their mail from a legal standpoint, but that is not what I am worried about my friend. My wife said that we run the danger of driving our kids not only away from each other, but also away from us as parents Time will say who was right. In the meantime, running such interference is draining. You must tell me what your plans are when this is eventually discovered. We both cannot block every call and letter before the kids become suspicious. _

_Sincerely,  
Edward  
_

I tucked the note back where I found it and returned to my room. I needed to get a letter out to Edward. I needed to find a way to outsmart my father. I wished Nellie was here to help me out; she would know what to do with my father. Nellie! Her birthday was coming up, and we always mail her a card maybe I could slip her a note asking for her help. In the meantime, I needed to school my features into showing ignorance of what was going on.

**xxx**

**EPOV**  
_Spring/Summer 1917_

Weeks without a word from Bella turned into months. I gave up on calling her a while ago, tired of never being able to reach her. As another letter went unanswered, I started to lose hope; she had forgotten about me, moved on, and her silence was her way of letting me down. I found little solace from my pain her composition still played in my head, long after I stopped playing it. Walking past her former home was tortuous, even talking to my mother was little help. Every time I talked about what was going on, my mother quickly changed the subject, her eyes sad. I knew she felt sorry for me, and I hated when anyone pitied me.

I gave up then. If Bella could forget about me, I could do the same. I was turning sixteen this year; a lot of good girls in Chicago would be having their debutante balls soon. I just needed to think about a girl without comparing her to Bella. I just needed to open myself to other possibilities. The idea frightened me and made me angry. Why would she do this to me, to us? As much as I hated the idea, I could see the reason for deciding to move on, what I could not understand was the silence. She always spoke her mind it would be better to hear it from her than to just speculate. I would never forgive her for this—never.

Everything around here reminded me of her, even the park. Every time I went to Grant Park to play baseball with the glove she got me, I recalled that afternoon we spent together. Every once in a while I would see Nellie in the park with her grandchild if the weather was nice. Retirement suited her, and I enjoyed her company. Seeing her only made me think of everything I was trying to forget, and I tried to ignore her as she called me.

"Mind your manners, young Edward," she said as I finally acknowledged her. "I forgive you only because I know what is troubling you. Sit down, young man," she said, motioning to the seat beside her. "Now you think my dear Isabella has forgotten about you, she has not." I stared at her in amazement.

"She has not stopped writing or calling. Your fathers have been intercepting your letters and calls. Here's the proof," she said as she handed me a tiny piece of paper that was taped to the inside of a birthday card she received. Bella's note was short, telling Nellie that our fathers were blocking our communication, asking her to talk to me, to let me know that she still loved me. I stared at the note, numb. All this time I had been thinking that she had forgotten about me, that she has moved on, and it was not the case. I felt helpless with our fathers were working together, I would never be able to contact her. Why would they do this to us?

"Now you know that my baby has been true to you Edward, can I tell Bella the same about you?" Nellie pinned me down with her stare; I almost felt like looking for the wooden spoon that she would threaten me with at the old Swan residence.

"Can you get a letter to her?" I asked. I had so much to tell Bella. First, I needed to apologize. I had really started to lose hope—no, I lost it completely—thinking the very worst of her. She needed to know that I loved her.

"Most of my communication with her is over the phone. I promise to tell her that you're still true to her. I am glad that your feelings have not changed; I do not know why your fathers are doing what they are doing, but I know deep in my heart that you two are meant to be. You two will find a way to be together. Love is a powerful force and it is on your side. Now run along and act as if you know nothing, Edward." I thanked her, hugging her tightly. Nellie would probably never know how much she had helped us.

Pretending in front of my father that I did not know what he was up to was hard. I kept our conversations short because I feared letting the anger I had bottled up out. I could not stop thinking of all the things Bella had written, of the things she wanted to tell me. All the things I needed to say that I could not because our fathers thought they knew what was best for us. How much did my mother know, and was she in on my father's plans? Was Bella's mom part of it? To avoid exploding at my father, I wrote letters, pouring all my feelings and thoughts out into them. One day she would be able to read them, one day.

* * *

_Author's Note_

Happy Valentine's Day folks! This chapter isn't too happy for Edward and Bella, but things will get better before getting a lot worse. As always, major thanks to the lovely people over at PTB, especially mcc101180 for her awesome beta work. In the meantime, share, love and please reply.


	4. Chapter 4

**BPOV**  
_Summer-Fall 1917_

I was so relieved when Nellie told me that she saw Edward and informed him what our fathers were doing. Edward still loved me—that was all I needed to know—and I held on to that for dear life. I mailed out empty letters for weeks to keep up appearances. I slowly pretended that I had given up hope. I asked my father why the boy I loved would do something so cruel to me, to which he replied that boys were strange and that Edward would learn one day what a wonderful girl he had lost. My father went out of his way to console me every time he saw me crying—the tears came to me easily since I only had to think of what was going on and I would burst into tears of impotent rage. I kept the peace as best I could; my parents never suspected that I knew of their deceit. My parents were home more; did not know why because I honestly did not focus much on anything regarding their lives.

As summer ended and September rolled around, my mother thought that my birthday party would break me out of the bad mood I was pretending to be in around them all the time. I was probably the only girl in the world that had no interest in her sixteenth birthday. My friend Angela, who usually shared my disdain for parties, seemed to be excited for my upcoming birthday. My father who had spent the last few weeks and months trying to console me gave into all of my mother's demands for the party. I found solace in my music, pouring my anger into it, letting it calm me so I would not explode at my parents. After asking for more lessons, Mrs. Cope started properly teaching me how to write music. Like Hamlet's play, the music I was preparing to perform at my party was a stinging rebuke to my parents. I practiced for hours, until my hands hurt from writing and my fingers were numb from playing the piano. I wished I knew how to sing, to put words to the melody and let them know that they would not win in their plans to kill my love for Edward.

The morning of my birthday was a lovely day. By noon, my house was already transforming into my mother's grand vision for the party. When my father delivered the mail, I cried because I knew Edward would have sent me a present. Nellie's birthday card cheered me up because she included a message from him. Like other messages, it was short and sweet, but it was all that I needed. Claiming to be upset, I excused myself to my room until the party started. I could not be in the same room with such a cruel person.

By the time night finally approached, I was wrapped in a tulle and lace dress that was adorned with pearls. I looked more like a cake topper than a girl turning sixteen, and I had to begrudgingly admit that my mother made me look beautiful. I wished Edward were there to see how wonderful I looked that evening. I was gracious and polite to everyone as my father escorted me around the room. We lingered longer with guests whose sons were of my age, and I wanted to groan in frustration. It was clear what my father was trying to do, and it would not work. It only worked to strengthen my resolve against him. In two years, I would move back to Chicago when Edward came for me.

My fingers itched as I approached the grand piano. I started with airy, festive pieces that suited the mood. I purposely played Debussy and watched the glances my parents exchanged. I then turned to some of Beethoven's darkest pieces: Tempest and Opus 2 No. 1. in F Minor, and then proceeded directly into the piece I spent months working on with Mrs. Cope. I looked for her in the audience, her eyes proud, as any teacher would be in that moment. My fingers crashed on the keys, my anger finally pouring out with every stroke. I fancied that my finale rivaled Appassionata's, but I was fairly certain Beethoven never performed it to a room of shocked party attendees. After taking a short break, I returned to the party pleased that the conversation turned to not only how incredibly I played, but also how angry the music sounded.

As the party dwindled down, I paid close attention to my parents. They were huddled in a corner talking; whatever they were discussing must have been intense by the look of things. They were so engrossed in their conversation that I actually saw to the departure of a few guests alone. The conversation must have been put on hold while they returned to their hosting duties. They barely spoke to one another as we bid the guests goodnight, and by the time the last one left, the tension between my parents was palpable. I almost felt sorry for them—almost. I made a quick escape to my room to prepare for bed when their conversation started up again. Whatever they were talking about totally consumed their attention, and I wanted nothing to do with it. I was all but ready to shut my door when I noticed that I had left my sheet music by the piano and returned downstairs.

"I think our best and safest course of action is to return to Chicago, Charlie," my mother said, and I stopped dead in my tracks. I tiptoed down a few more steps and sat down, making sure they could not see me. They were both standing by the bar, sharing a drink before retiring for the night.

"I swear if I knew that so much trouble would come out of this, I would have stayed in Chicago," my father grumbled as he poured himself a drink. "I knew being an outsider would be hard. I didn't know the only reason I was brought in was because I was an outsider. Damn Tammany politics has all but cost me my job!"

"Well, you know how the city is," my mother replied, trying her best to console my father. "I say we play it by ear, dear, and if it is best to leave, we leave. I rather not have any trouble, know what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, of course you're right, dear," my father replied while refilling his drink. "This would not be happening in Chicago. I know everyone there, and I am not just another chess piece on the political board. The damn fight between the city and Albany is as bad as the one Chicago has with everyone else. I do not think there is going to be any trouble, at least not in the foreseeable future."

"What are we going to do about Isabella?" my mother asked as she moved and sat on the couch, glass in hand, turning to face my father. From my angle, I had a good look at her and hoped she did not look toward the stairs. "If we go back to Chicago, she's going to find out what you and Edward's father have been up to with their letters. It's a situation I am not looking forward to having to deal with."

"I am her father; I did what was best for her. Edward feels the same way. Renee, I know that you were not supportive of our plans, but it needed to be done. Bella is sixteen now and has to put away childish things, her silly idea of what love is about included. In a few years, we will have to make a good match for her. If we do move back, I will simply forbid her from seeing him and hire a prison warden as her chaperone." I was to be treated no better than the criminals my father worked to put away. A prison warden, I seethed in anger.

"Oh, Charlie." My mother sighed and put down her drink. "When are you going to learn that she is more your daughter than she is mine? My father forbade you from seeing me out and look how well that turned out. Do you honestly think that they will not seek each other out if they were both in the same city again? Oh when she finds out, Lord save me from her temperament, she will—"

"She won't find out!" My father snapped, cutting my mother off midsentence.

My mother shook her head at my father, dismissing his outburst. "She will, love, she will. After all, nothing—" she said as her eyes caught mine. I did not give her a chance as I raced down the rest of the steps.

"Stays hidden under the sun," I finished my mother's favorite expression as I looked at the pair of them defiantly. My father recovered from the shock first, putting down his drink to stare down at me angrily.

"How long have you been there, Isabella?" my father asked, making a good job of not appearing startled. I walked past him as I grabbed the sheet music off the piano without saying a word. I sat down on the bench because I was crippled by the anger that coursed through me. They did not know that I knew the truth, even knowing everything; the confirmation just ripped me open. All those nights I went to bed crying, thinking that Edward did not love me anymore. I spent weeks in a haze, heartbroken until I discovered the truth.

"Long enough," I replied, bolting from the bench toward the stairs. I needed to get away from my father before my temper gave away what I knew.

"Get back here, Isabella." My father's voice echoed as I ignored him and continued racing up the stairs in my haste to get away.

"Bella." My mother's soft voice stopped me. I was glad to know that she did not agree with the plan, but I was furious that she had done nothing to stop my father. She was complacent in the whole thing; this whole time, she stood by and did nothing as my father destroyed my life. I just did not understand their reasoning; it did not make sense at all. Anger gave way to confusion as I came back downstairs and slumped on the bottom step. I was exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

"How could you do such a thing—say it's the right thing to do and just sit back and watch me be in pain? I cried myself to sleep every night for weeks until I was as dried up as an orange peel."

"You do not understand, young lady—" I shook my head at my father and pulled myself to my feet, holding on to the banister for dear life.

"I understand that you're selfish, Father. You have Mother, you have a perfect love between the two of you, and you do not want anyone else to have what you do. I know the story of how you two got together; it was one of Grandma Marie's favorite stories to tell me. I do not know what Edward ever did for you to disapprove of him, why you dislike him so much. I understand that you have a disposition entirely different from my own that allows you to lie, manipulate, and act as if nothing is amiss. You sat there and consoled me, telling me that Edward was a fool for hurting me when it was you who did it." I gripped the banister until my knuckles turned white as my stomach churned. "I understand too that one day, sooner than later, you're going to make a match for me. Some nice boy somewhere is going to fit into your perfect idea of a husband for me. Your idea of what my life should be. You'll make sure that the wedding is perfect, but it won't be because he won't be Edward."

"It is just silly childish infatuation," my father began. "You'll see—" I snorted in disgust, cutting him off.

"If what I feel for Edward is childish, then I never want to become an adult! I will never forgive you for this! Never!" I yelled at my father and turned, racing up the stairs, tripping, and banging my knee since I was half-blind due to my tears. I shut the door to my room and turned the lock. It was hopeless; even if we moved back, my father would not let me see Edward. I should have run away with him when I had the chance. I sobbed into my pillows out of sheer rage. I hated feeling hopeless. I did not hear the door unlock nor did I see my mother slip into my room until she sat on my bed. I turned over and scooted to the farthest corner of the bed, away from her.

"Don't," I said my voice barely a whisper. "Don't try to play peacemaker now. I knew that he did not approve of Edward for some reason, but you and Mrs. Masen would talk about the wedding and dresses for hours. You two talked about how lucky we were to have found each other and how we would never know the worry of having to find someone to spend the rest of our lives with, yet you did nothing to help me, help us. How could you just stand by and let him do such a thing to me?"

"Bella, sweetie, I know that you don't understand but you're young and you'll come to understand…"

No, they were the ones who did not understand. I did not wish to repeat the same conversation that I had with father, and I just wanted to go to bed. "Please leave me alone, Mother. I am tired and wish to go to bed. Goodnight," I said, turning away from her and pulling the covers up to my chin, my dismissal of her firm. She left without saying another word as I willed myself to sleep, only to get away from it all.

_**xxx**_

We were going to move back early next year, right after the holidays and in the middle of winter. It was a drastic change from the grand arrival we made to the city two years prior. In a few months, I would be back in my beloved Chicago, back to my friends. I was actually going to miss the city. I was going to miss Angela most of all and Central Park in the summer.

I rarely spoke to my father any more than what was needed. I eventually warmed up to my mother, but I kept her at arm's length, unwilling to confide in her again completely. By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, I had packed a great deal of belongings in preparation for the move. Angela was upset that I was moving, but we promised to keep in touch after my move. Letting go of Mrs. Cope was harder than I thought possible; the woman taught me how to properly write music, and I would be in debt with her forever.

Christmas was a muted affair; the friends that my parents made came around to say their goodbyes, but we did not attend any of the lavish holiday parties. My mother gifted me pretty stationery set, embossed with my initials and glided flowers. My father did not get me anything, and it stung, as much as I did not want to admit it. As the day progressed, I pretended not to care. I kept myself busy idly playing the piano while he remained in his study.

"He did get you something, Bella," my mother said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Your present is in Chicago. It made no sense to give it to you while we are still here." I was startled and asked her to thank him on my behalf. "You should do it yourself," she replied, sitting on the edge of the piano bench. "I've grown weary of being reduced to a messenger within my own home. You two are so painfully alike that I have half a mind to just lock you two in a room."

My mother was right; my father and I were stubborn, but I was not going to back down. The man was a cop and had no qualms about committing fraud when he tampered with the mail. He had the audacity to act as if I was wrong in the way that I reacted!

**EPOV**  
_Fall-Winter 1917/18_

I heard from Nellie that the Swans were contemplating moving back to Chicago. Things in New York had apparently taken a bad turn professionally for Bella's father. It did not shock me; after all, my father was always talking about how corrupt New York was. How the corruption in the city was only second to Chicago's. Whenever my parents discussed the move, they would make sure I was not around and would hastily change the subject if they thought I was within earshot. I feigned ignorance, but even a simpleton would have guessed that something was being discussed that they were not supposed to be privy to based on the way they acted.

Weeks passed and my parents did a stellar job of talking about everything but the Swans' move back to the city. Their avoidance was to be commended, but it came to an end when workers arrived at the Swans' house. I was walking home with my parents when we noticed workmen busily bringing in furniture into the house. "Was the Swan residence sold? I didn't know it was for sale," I asked.

"Oh, Edward, the house wasn't sold," my mother said, giving my father a sharp look. I did not have to be a mind reader to know that my mother was squarely putting this on his shoulders. I was eager to see how my father was going to work his way out of the situation; no doubt, he will put his legal expertise to work.

"We can talk over dinner if you want," my father said, speaking up once we arrived home. Obviously, he wanted to stall, to think of what to say, I did not want to give him the chance.

"I rather talk about it now," I replied firmly. He always wanted to do things his way, and for once, I was not going to give in.

"We have known for some time that the Swans were likely moving back. I—I mean, we thought that with what transpired with Isabella that we would shield you from having to deal with her again. After all, the way she just stopped talking to you is inexcusable."

"Don't you think that telling me early would have better prepared me? I mean, she just stopped communicating with me. Seeing her around would have been a shock if I didn't know she was coming."

"Yes, of course. I think you should avoid her when they return." My father looked flustered, shooting my mother glances as she busied herself around the living room, rearranging the flower centerpiece on the table. "Don't you think that I'm owed an explanation from Isabella?"

"Well, yes—but I thought that avoiding confrontation is best for all involved..." he replied, stammering.

"I don't think there's a way to avoid it. Her actions were a slight against me, against the family. Can you sue her?"

"Sue her?!" my mother exclaimed. "Edward, do not be ridiculous. We can't sue the Swans."

"No, not the Swans, just her—wait; she is a minor so I cannot sue her. It would have to be the family." The look on my father's face was priceless, frivolous litigation was something he absolutely detested. "How is it ridiculous? She played me false; it is an injury as grievous as a physical one," I replied angrily.

"Now, we can't just go about suing everyone who does wrong by us, son. There would not be enough lawyers or courts to see to the cases." My father said, clearly irritated.

"Well, fine. We shouldn't sue, but Isabella will get a piece of my mind," I said and excused myself. I was on the verge of breaking into a fit of laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. The New Year would bring my love back to Chicago; I could not ask for a better Christmas present.

_**xxx**_

I rang in the New Year happily, counting down the days before Bella arrived. Their house was a hotbed of activity all throughout December, with the exception of the Christmas break, as their staff brought the house to order. The city looked like it was one giant snowball, but the movers seemed impervious to the cold as they unloaded the last few boxes. The Swans themselves were due to arrive by train the next day once the storm that was battering the city subsided.

"For someone who is very angry, you seem entirely eager to see who you are mad at because they wronged you," my mother said during dinner. There were times when I thought my mother was on to me, that she knew that I was not in the dark. This feeling had intensified since word spread that Bella was moving back. Had I been careless in hiding my enthusiasm? Deep down, I knew that my mother was on to me. I went to sleep that night restless, wondering what the next day would bring.

I woke up anxious, nervous to see Bella for the first time in years. By the time I was fully awake and raced downstairs, there were two cars parked in front of the Swans' house. "When did they arrive?" I asked, trying hard to school my features.

"Just a few minutes ago, give or take. The engine in their Ford is loud," my father replied without putting down his newspaper. I wanted to race outside, ignoring the cold, and run down the street to their house to hug Bella. I shrugged, trying to pretend to be indifferent. I went to the music room and played the piano in a vain attempt to distract myself. I kept catching myself starting to play the melody Bella wrote for me and stopped. I let my fingers ghost over the notes, playing the melody in my head as I recalled the last time I saw her, held her, and kissed her.

"Isabella knows everything." Mr. Swan's voice took a second to recognize, and I realized that our fathers were talking in our snow-covered backyard. I had no idea how long they had been there.

"How did this happen, Charles? I thought you had things under control."

"Renee and I were talking. I thought Bella had gone to bed, but she heard us talking." Her father replied, "I tried to deny it, but it was futile. Our relationship has greatly soured, just like our wives warned us."

"Damn it, Charles, can't you control your daughter?" My father snapped angrily at Mr. Swan. Even from my perch, I could see the muscle in his face twitch in anger.

"What do you think is going to happen when your son finds out? Your son is not so little anymore. This has escalated greatly, and if we don't work closely to contain the problem, it will only get worse." My father bristled at Mr. Swan's words, but he was right.

"Maybe tomorrow or the day after, they are going to talk. Are we just to ban them from talking to one another? People are used to seeing us socializing in the same circle. Are we to avoid each other to keep the kids apart?"

"Maybe for once you men should have listened to your wives." I could barely make out my mother's voice so I cracked up the window just a silver to hear what she was saying. "Renee and I told you both that your plan was the definition of foolishness. Maybe the kids would have grown apart over time, would have stayed friends, or realized that the feelings they thought they had for one another was just kids' stuff. What you two have done has ensured that our kids will turn against us. Your ploy may have worked when they were hundreds of miles apart, but there is simply no way it can be carried out here. Not the way the two of you have carried on doing it."

I did not want to sit anymore listening to them talk about our lives as if it was just a trivial thing to sort out. I stepped into my room, determined to see Bella myself. I was dressed warmly and marching toward the front door before anyone could move to stop me. Our parents had no right to do this to us, no right whatsoever. I yanked the door open angrily and stormed out, barreling into Bella herself. I had only a moment to grab her, twisting our bodies so I would take the brunt of the impact into the hard, icy snow. She was holding something in her hands when I slammed into her. I did not get a good look at what it was, but lying there with her on top of me, I realized what she was holding was a bundled stack of letters. They fluttered around us, the crash knocking them into the air, and they fell like giant snowflakes. I could not speak as I looked at her, really looked at her. She was taller and way more beautiful than the last time I saw her.

There were so many things I wanted to say, but I did not want to break the silence. I just stared at her, drinking in her features, the way the last two years have changed her. Her hair was longer, her lips fuller, kissable. I pulled us up to our feet and kissed her, snaking my arms around tightly. Decorum be damned, I loved her, and if I had to take on both of our fathers, I would.

"Edward," Bella whispered, her hands buried in my hair. "I've missed you so much. I do not know why my dad hates you, but he is behind keeping us apart. I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" I shushed her with another kiss. Our parents were the farthest thing from my mind now. She was with me and I was not letting her go.

I cupped her face and kissed her some more. Her lips, her cheeks, her lips again because I could not get enough of her. "We will make them understand that what we have isn't some trivial fleeting childish fancy. Two years is all we have to last, and if they will not let us be, we will just take the first train out of Chicago. We'll make it, I know it." I tugged her hand to lead her around to the backyard. It was time our fathers stopped seeing us as children. My father often talked about wanting to make a man out of me; I was going to show him and Mr. Swan that I was one.

"What are we going to do?" she asked as I led her around the house.

"Our fathers are talking about us. I am done having my life dictated by people that are not going to live it. I am confronting them. My mother supports us you know. She was never in favor of what our fathers were doing." Bella's grip on my hand tightened as we marched off to face our fathers.

* * *

Author's Note:

Thanks everyone for the lovely reviews and sorry that there was such a break between updates, I ran into a bit of writer's block.


	5. Chapter 5

**BPOV  
**_Winter 1918_

Confronting our parents was something that I had not pictured Edward doing, but then again, I never thought that I would confront my own father. The snow crunched under our feet as we stormed to the backyard behind his house. Just as he said, our parents were discussing us. My mother was not there; she was back at our house, working with the staff to bring it up to order. My father's angry tone was only matched by Mr. Masen's, the exchange about what to do with us was being heatedly debated. We made no pretense of hiding as we came into their view. Mrs. Masen was the first to see us, and her eyes went from our faces to our tightly clasped hands.

Edward's bravado wilted slightly in the presence of our fathers' angry stares, but I was a veteran when it came to dealing with my father. "By all means carry on with what you were saying about us. I am incredibly curious to know what new scheme you are planning." I said, returning my father's icy glare back at him

"Isabella, go home." My father's voice was akin to a bark, the muscle in his jaw twitching. Edward stepped protectively closer to me, and I squeezed his hand, silently telling him that I was okay.

"No. I will not go home. For months, you and Mr. Masen schemed against us. Plotted and planned to break us apart and stood by as we suffered thinking that the other one had turned against us," I replied hotly. I was squeezing Edward's hand so hard that I knew it had to hurt, but he did not say a word.

"You are embarrassing me in front of the Masens. I will not repeat myself again, young lady. Go home."

"No, she is not going anywhere and neither am I. At least not until we get some answers," Edward said, finally finding his voice and staring my father down. "Mail fraud, phone tampering, and character assassination—you and my father went through a lot of to break us apart," he sneered. "Isabella should not be embarrassed, but you all should be."

"Young man, that is no way to speak to an elder!" His father's voice was nothing more than a bark and I tensed up. I had never seen Mr. Masen angry; his anger just fueled mine.

"I do not mean to be rude, Mr. Masen, but the elders in this have not acted as such. Did you really think that what you and my father did would work? Even if it did, your son and I would be living false lives, lives that were not ours but designed by you two." I paused because the thought of living that scary life robbed me of thought that I could barely put words together. I glanced between the angry faces of our parents. Maybe they were seeing something that we were unable to see. There had to be a reason. Something logical which made them do what they did.

"What is wrong with me, Mr. Masen, that you see me as such a poor match for your son?" I did not know I had said the words aloud until I felt Edward tugging on my hand.

"Isabella—" Mr. Masen started to say before my father cut him off.

"Of course there is nothing wrong with you. It is just that we think…" my father replied hastily.

"Then there is something wrong with me? I am not good enough for her?" Edward snapped at our parents. "One of you is lying. If you thought that we were good for each other, you would have not done all the things you have done."

"How dare you," my father sneered, his face red and blotchy with rage.

"No! How dare you!" I cried out. "How dare you do this to us? You sat by, the both of you, as your children suffered! I loved you Daddy. I loved you with all my heart, but when I discovered what you did, what you plotted with Mr. Masen, I grew to distrust you. At times, I even hated you. Look! For the love of God, step back and look at what the two of you have wrought. I know we cannot stop you. You can very well ship me off to Florida tomorrow for all we know, but it will not work to break us apart. What your meddling has done is sow seeds of disdain between us, with bitter mistrust and anger the fruits of this endeavor. Father, I ask you to cease going down this path—nay, I beg you. Stop, just stop—"

A sob choked the rest of my words, and I was thankful to find myself pulled back into Edward's embrace. He turned slightly, so that my cheek rested on his chest as he held me protectively, shielding me from our fathers. I closed my eyes, weariness seeping into my bones. I was tired of the fighting, tired of it all. It was so cold that my tears froze on my cheeks, the bitter wind stinging my flesh.

"Bella?" Edward's soft voice was soothing. He let go of me and I had to tilt my head up to look at him properly. "We are alone," he said, and indeed we were. Fresh snow barely started to cover the traces of our parents' footsteps. The snow fell softly but quickly around us. I laughed, brushing some off his collar. I was cold but I did not want to ruin the moment; I did not know what to expect from my father, from his, so worry gnawed at me.

"I think we are going to be okay. I think everything is going to be okay. Do not worry, Bella, I am going take care of things. We just have to take it one day at a time, give them no room to quarrel, no quarter against us." I nodded in agreement, realizing with some annoyance that I had to stand on my toes to kiss him properly now. He smiled down at me just as his lips met mine. I felt blissfully warm, and if I could freeze time, I would. Nothing mattered right now; I did not want to think of our fathers, of schemes and plots. I just wanted to stay warm and safe in his embrace.

**EPOV  
**_Spring 1918_

Bella laughed as she picked up my apple from my tray and replaced it with a rather sad looking orange. "Hey, give that back…" I started to protest but stopped because I knew it was in vain. Bella had already started her walk back toward the girls' tables, and a chunk was already missing from the apple. I did not grasp the reason why seating in the cafeteria was segregated by gender now that classes were co-ed. It had made sense when we were separated and divided by floors; the girls' classes were held on the first and half of the second, while the boys' classes were held on the other half and the third floor. Keeping us separated in the only free time we really had during the school day was just cruel.

I continued to watch her as she talked with her friends; someone must have said something shocking since the tips of her ears were turning bright red. She shook her head, admonishing her friends who turned around to look at me. I pretended at that moment to find my plate extremely interesting. I stole a glance and saw her sticking her tongue out at me as she turned back to the conversation at her table.

We made sure to never do a single thing out of place; the tentative truce we hammered out with our parents was built on spider webs. I knew our parents had eyes and ears everywhere, just looking for us to slip up to swoop in and break us apart. I took it as a personal attack, and I wanted to show our fathers that I was man enough to take care of her. I pulled out the recruitment papers from the Enlistment Office and went over them again. I was too young to enlist legally in the military, but if I somehow managed to become a solider and go fight for the U.S. in the war, it would show everyone that I was not a child. I had to keep this to myself. I knew that Bella would not approve of this scheme of mine, but I knew of no other way to solve so many of our issues with our fathers. For the rest of the day at school, all I could think about was the glory that was awaiting me upon my return from war. I would be a man, a war hero coming home to his sweetheart bride to live the rest of our days peacefully together. A peace that I had a personal hand in, what a glorious future awaited me.

**xxx**

"Edward? Hello is anyone in there?" Bella's irritated voice brought me back to the present; it was obvious I had missed something she had said. What was it, a question? I stared back at her clueless, which did not help the situation at all. She huffed, grabbing her books from my hands, and started to speed-walk away from me. I noticed that we had walked almost halfway to her house. Had she been talking the entire way home? What had I missed?

"Hey wait," I said as I stepped in front of her. "I was in my own thoughts for a minute. I am sorry that I did not catch what you said." I reached for her books again, taking them in my free hand as I reached for hers. "I have just been thinking a lot," I said as means of an apology. Sometimes I would swear that she knew when I was up to something. Even when we were young, there was little that I could hide from her.

"A minute? Edward, you have been quiet the whole time. You have been strange for days, and it has all been since we passed that recruitment station on Sunday when our families went out to lunch together. I know that if you were older that you would have enlisted already in the war, but I agree with your mother. Too many of our young men are dying in a war that does not even really concern us. I, for one, am glad that you are too young to enlist. I could not bear the thought of something happening to you." The lump that suddenly formed in my throat was too hard to swallow as I took in her words. I had already doctored papers that showed that I was turning of age to join the military this summer. I had already started going to see the recruiter and would finalize my enlistment as soon as the fake papers I showed stated I was eighteen.

"Well, even if I wanted to, I could not join anyway," I said as I resumed our walk toward her house. "I apologize if I seemed distant. It was never my intention." I reached out for her hand, lacing our fingers together again. Now I was certain that I could not inform her of my plans at all, only at the very last minute when it would be too late for her to change my mind. As we approached her home, I let her fingers slide away from mine, as it was customary. We must give our parents no quarter for which to quarrel; our decorum had to be beyond reproach. I gave her a soft, fleeting kiss across the span of her knuckles on her doorstep as her mother opened the door. With a quick exchange of goodbyes, I hurried home with my thoughts swirling and a small seed of guilt blooming in my gut.

**xxx**

Spring eased into summer, and before I knew it, my seventeenth birthday was approaching. I learned quickly it was impossible to hide anything from Bella. Her inquisitive nature, usually one of her most endearing features, was now a maddening obstacle. How could I hide my plans from my parents so easily, but seem incapable of hiding them from her? She did not know that I was planning to run off to join the war, but she knew that there was something up. With school having ended weeks ago and freed of that distraction, she threw her energy into figuring out what was wrong. As annoyed as it made me, I loved her even more. I knew now that I would have to be extra careful when buying her birthday and wedding presents. I looked forward to the challenge.

Turning seventeen also brought up other complications; my father was increasingly more insistent that I start working as a lowly clerk at the law office. "Start low; learn the ropes of how things really work while you are at school, son. When you graduate, you will be as good of a lawyer as I am." I had no desire of being a lawyer but kept my opinion to myself. The truce that we lived under did not give us much room for error. I knew that the slightest slip would give our parents, mainly our fathers, the ammunition needed. This year's festivities were going to be done on a smaller scale, much to my mother's horror. A small party and a chaperone-free walk with Bella at Grant Park for a lunch date. She was here for my birthday; that was all I ever wanted and I could not ask for more.

As my birthday approached, so did my dread increased. My mother started to question my newfound desire to go to the market for her when she needed something. She even joked that there was probably some competition for Bella waiting in one of the stands. I found it ludicrous that she would even entertain such silly notions but did little to dismiss her idea since it kept her far away from the truth. Little did she know that I went to the recruitment center every chance I had to complete my paperwork.

I woke up the morning of my birthday and made the morning round to the market for my mother. My main motive was to finally pick up my registration papers, uniform and train ticket. "Well hello there, birthday boy. Masen, is it not?" The recruitment officer was a bear of a man, and I got the sinking feeling that he did not quite care for me as I came into his office. Every time I had come here, he managed to be professional, but there was a mean gleam in his eye. I stiffened at his mention of the word boy, and he caught it and laughed. "Boy it is, son. You may be eighteen today, but you are no means a man. Men are what these war needs, not little boys thinking of glory. If it were up to me, I would send you home to your mama, but we need every abled body willing to fight, so you will do." This was the most he ever said to me and it hurt, deflating my spirits a little. I was a man; men make tough choices and I made one. I was going to leave my sweetheart early tomorrow morning to go off to war. I was leaving my mother behind, my father and friends, to protect them. I stopped being a boy the moment I made that decision.

I kept my opinions to myself as I worked on completing my papers. There was another person in the room, and I paled when I noticed who it was. I hoped Dr. Cullen did not recognize me since my lie would unravel with a single word from the hospital doctor. I hunkered down and wrote faster, signing my name and picking up my papers, new uniform, and train ticket for tomorrow, and bolted as quickly as possible out of the office as soon as I was done. I looked over to where he was sitting a few minutes ago and was shocked to see him gone. I relaxed as I stepped out into the street, only to see him standing by the doorway, waiting for me.

I pretended that I did not see him and turned away, walking quickly across the street. He kept an easy pace, and I knew it was hopeless to avoid talking to him. "I know for a fact that you are too young to enlist. Did you doctor paperwork to say otherwise?" he said as he finally drew up beside me. I nodded, knowing it was pointless to lie; my plans were already ruined. "If you think I am going to march you back and make you confess, you are mistaken. I learned a long time ago that we have to let people do what their hearts desire. I tell you this, young Edward, we will board that train tomorrow and I promise to look after you to the best of my ability to ensure that you return to your parents." Speechless, I stuck out my hand to shake his, and for a second, he just stared at me, as if he did not understand what compelled him to say what he did. His hand moved too quickly for my eyes to catch, but the coldness of his fingers informed me. No matter the season, Dr. Cullen's hands were always cold. I rushed back home to hide my uniform and papers. I made a halfhearted attempt to comb my unruly hair but it was of no use. I gave up and made my way to Bella's house to escort her on our date.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry for such a long wait in the update. I really don't have an excuse, but I do make it up by bring you two chapters back to back! Thanks for the reviews and the recs folks!


	6. Chapter 6

**BPOV**  
_Summer 1918_

Even as I was gingerly wrapping the small pocket watch I had purchased for Edward for his birthday, the odd sensation that had followed me around for weeks did not dissipate. I loved that his birthday was during the summer because most of the time the weather was gorgeous. He would be here any minute now, and I was still fumbling with the gift I was going to give him tonight. I was glad that we were going to have some time alone; I knew that this feeling had something to do with him.

The walk to the park was very different; the air around us was different. The silly rumors of him fancying a girl that worked at the market had reached me, but like all other rumors that swirled around, I ignored them. I did not want to be one of those women that always thought the worst of their man the minute they were out of sight. There was another worry that did eat at me, but I dismissed it as quickly as I pushed aside the market girl theory. Edward was just too young to join the army. Had he been of age, I would have bet good money that his market visits were not to see a girl behind my back, but to enlist and go off to war. He was enamored with the idea of war and glory. He thought that becoming a solider was the quickest and surest way to buy my father's respect. However, with those two theories dismissed, I could not understand why his behavior had been so strange for weeks. I hated that everyone else I crossed paths with was an easy read, except the one person I wanted to know the most about.

"Now you are the one with your head in the clouds." Edward laughed as he tugged sharply on my hand to get my attention. We were walking one of the many paths that looped around the park, one of the more public ones as we agreed with our fathers. I smiled sheepishly at him, squeezing his hand as we continued walking. We had packed a lunch that he was carrying, while I packed some of Nellie's tarts. I was worried about her; she had informed us that she was a bit under the weather. I do not think I ever remember Nellie being sick, and I hoped she felt better soon. I could not fathom a world where I could not enjoy her company or her tarts. It was hard enough being back in Chicago without her being part of my household anymore. After all, she was like a second mother to me.

We picked a spot to set up our picnic and ate leisurely. We did not say much, but I could not help but notice his odd behavior. Edward stole glances at me when he thought I was not looking and kept fidgeting with something in his pocket throughout our meal. "Is there something wrong?" I asked, unable to tolerate the silence anymore. "Is there something on your mind that you want to tell me?" Gods, what if he did fancy a girl at the market? "You keep staring at me when you think I am not looking and you are playing with something in your pocket. You have been awfully reserved, even more than your usual."

He sighed and sat up; his hands were no longer in his pockets. "I have just been thinking a lot. Of what our lives are going to be, how the world is changing so quickly. I am sorry that you have worried for naught, Bella." I frowned, knowing him well enough to know that extra charming tone. He was avoiding something.

"And before you think that I am so aloof because I all of a sudden fancy some girl at the market, I want to give you this," he said, holding in his hand a silver locket on a dainty chain. "Happy birthday." I stared at the gift, confused. Was this what he had been hiding from me?

"It is not my birthday for a few more months," I started to say but he cut me off.

"Well, happy belated then. This was supposed to be your present last year." He moved his hand so the locket shook back and forth. "Well take it, silly. I cannot keep and do it justice." He let the chain go so the locket fell to rest on my open palm; I noticed the very tiny latch and wondered what was inside.

"Open it," he insisted as I ran my fingers along the seam and popped the lock open. Inside was a picture of us together. We were younger by the looks of it, probably thirteen. There was an inscription on the other side, but the sun blurred out the words. I shaded my eyes trying to see the tiny words to no use. "Omnia vincit amor," he said, reading the inscription for me.

"Love conquers all," I translated, smiling. The pocket watch I was giving him was engraved with a similar quote. It humbled me sometimes how in tune we were with one another. "It is lovely," I whispered, completely at a loss for words. "Help me put it on." I turned around and lifted my hair so he could better see the tiny clasp closing of the chain. Edward's fingers lingered on my shoulders as he leaned in to hug me. There was a chaste kiss pressed against my temple and another one placed not so chastely on the curve of my neck.

I turned my head to look at him. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him but I did not get the chance. His lips were anything but chaste as they pressed against my own. He cupped my cheek, his fingers twirling my hair. It was a complete assault on my senses, and I happily surrendered. I shifted my body around, somehow able to avoid breaking the kiss as I threw my arms around him. I knew that someone would see us, someone would say something to our fathers, but right now, I did not care. We pulled away when the demand for oxygen reminded us that we were only human. "Edward…" I cautioned as he started to kiss me again. I heard him mutter again how much he loved me, like a litany repeatedly. This kiss was desperate, wild. It reminded me of the kiss he gave me at his party the summer I left, the kiss on his doorstep this past winter when I returned. The coolness of the locket removed any possibility of another girl but I still worried. When we came back up for air, it seemed like he finally came to his senses. He looked around to see if anyone had witnessed our very public display of affection. We cleaned up quickly and headed back to my house. All along the walk home, my lips tingled from his kisses.

"I will see you at the party later." I smiled at him, my fingers grazing over my locket. "I hope you love your present," I said as I unlocked my door. I rushed inside, hoping to make it up to my room before anyone saw me. I was not so lucky because I bumped into my mother, almost knocking over the teacup she was holding.

"You look happy, Isabella," she started as she looked at me. "I am glad. Now go upstairs and freshen up." I nodded, relieved she did not seem to notice anything amiss. "Next time, make sure that he does not leave a grass stain across your cheek when he kisses you." I knew I was the color of beets by the time I made it to my room. It was hours before his party was to start, so I decided to take a short nap. I fell asleep holding his locket in my hands. Even after a wonderful date in the park, the feverish declaration of love, there was something different. Something that I hoped would not snatch the happiness I had just obtained away from me.

**EPOV**  
_Summer 1918_

I hung my new uniform in the very back of my closet. The bag that I had stuffed my clothes in was behind my door. As soon as the party ended, I would sneak off to the train station to ride off to war. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The new tie my mother got me to go with the cuff links my father wanted me to wear tonight and at my first day of work next week did not make me feel any different. There was no visible change that marked me a year older, except the ticket that I stuffed into my pants pocket with my handkerchief, afraid of leaving it in my room. That way it was safely with me, and I could forget about stressing about it during the party. From the sounds of things downstairs, the party was now in full effect. I acquiesced to my mother's request to make the party bigger. I made my way downstairs as I saw the Swans arrive. I knew that if Bella had any idea of what I was planning that she would stop me.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs as they were ushered in, she was wearing my locket. Her hair, usually left to spill out around her, was neatly swept up. I saw her before she saw me, and I could not help but smile as she scanned the room, her eyes seeking me out. Her face brightened up when she finally found me, and she excused herself from her parents and made her way toward me.

"Wow, you were not kidding when you said that your mother was going to invite more people," she said as she reached me; we walked over to the table where my presents were piling up. One day, many years from now, I would learn to stand up to my mother, but now was not that day. I shrugged because just like my father, I had learned it was impossible to tell my mother no. She was tenacious when she had something in mind, and I would swear on a stack of bibles that she was a mind reader. I watched as Bella placed her family's gift on the table and started to place a smaller box on top before pulling away.

"Another present?" I asked, trying to look over her shoulder at the small blue box. She poked me in my side with her elbow, tucking the small blue box away.

"Yes, another present. I do not know if I should give it to you since you are so nosy. Now, let us make the rounds and dance with at least two other people before our fathers accuse us of being antisocial." I did not like the idea of any other guy dancing with her or being anywhere near her, but I guessed that she was right. I led her out into the dance floor for our first dance together as my mother watched from the piano smiling. I saw as she motioned the player to step aside as she sat down and began to play. Bella's step faltered first as the melody of the piece I had written for her started to play. We shot quick glances at one another and continued dancing, trying our best to not look confused. The melody continued playing, the familiar tones washing over us as we danced.

"I do not recognize this part," I whispered to Bella.

"Neither do I," she started to say before she laughed out loud all of a sudden. Her face turned red, and she buried it against my chest as I did my best to dance for the both of us. "She merged our songs," she said, her voice slightly muffled against my chest. I smiled as the music reached its finale, absolutely loving the present my mother gave me, well us really. We quickly moved off the dance floor to seek her out, Bella just a step behind me, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief I gave her.

"That was amazing, Mrs. Masen," she gushed as she approached my mother.

"Elizabeth. How many times am I to tell you, Isabella Marie, to call by my given name?"

"I am sorry, Mrs. Ma—Elizabeth. Your composition was wonderful."

"My composition? No, dears, that was entirely the work of my two best students. I just played around with it a little. The beauty is in your individual works." I left them talking about compositions to socialize with other guests before it was time to cut my cake and open my presents. I could not help but glance at my mother and Bella together—how happy they looked discussing their love of composing. I knew that tomorrow they would be together again, their reunion a sad one when they learned that I was gone.

I danced with two other young girls that attended the party; I assumed they were the daughters of my father's partners at the office. I had seen them a time or two before, especially when Bella had moved away and my father dragged me to every function in hopes of introducing me to other ladies of good standing. I looked around to find Bella and frowned at the guy she was dancing with; Michael Newton was a large oaf, grandson of the Police Commissioner and a complete jerk. I bristled at the advances he was taking with my girl. His hand was almost inappropriately too low on the small of her back, and the look on her face clearly showed that she was counting down the moments until the song ended. I was seething, wanting to cut across the room to slug him.

The second the song ended, I watched as she all but wretched herself free of his hold, muttering something about needing fresh air in the garden. He had the nerve to offer to join her, which she quickly and almost viciously shut down. He was about to say something, but realized he was out of earshot and shrugged, turning around to scan the room. All I wanted to do was go after her in the garden but I stayed and dance another number, this time with my mother. When that song ended, I made my way outside.

I did not have to call out her name in the dark; I knew exactly where she was. I found her sitting in the same wrought iron chair in the garden, the pale moonlight catching the locket's face.

"Newton is a pervert," she grumbled as soon as she saw me. "I cannot stand him. He is rude, obnoxious and entirely too full of himself. I hear that Jessica Stanley likes him, poor thing. Oh and the way he talks, the things he says…" she started to rant again but cut herself off. "Never mind that vile toad," she said as she shot to her feet. "I rather give you a very proper birthday kiss and your present."

I felt the warm press of her lips against mine a second later, and my arms snaked around her in response. I buried my fingers in her hair, carelessly pulling out pins so that her hair fell in waves around my fingers. She pulled back first, sucking in a deep ragged breath as she looked up at me. "You know, I wore my hair up for you, at least to showcase the wonderful locket you gave me. Now you have ruined my hair." She laughed, stepping out of my arms and reaching for the small box that she had managed to keep away from me all night.

"Go on and open it, Edward. Lord knows the trouble I have had tonight keeping it away from you," she said with a smile. I picked it up gingerly, smiling at the slightly crushed red bow as I unwrapped the present. The pocket watch was engraved with my initials and I smiled at it. "Open the watch," she whispered excitedly, like a kid at Christmas. I popped the watch open and was stunned speechless. The engraving on the inside was exquisite. Her initials looped around mine, the swirls forming another line of text. I tilted it to better read what was written and was amazed at how in tune with me the woman in front of me was.

"Love never ends," I whispered, humbled by the gift, the girl, everything. I swallowed the confession that bubbled up inside me; I wanted to throw myself at her feet. Instead, I reached out and grabbed her, cupping her face to tilt it as I pressed my lips against hers. I kissed her like a man possessed, condemned, and I was. I would not be able to kiss her like this for months, maybe even years, while I was away at war. I propelled her backward until we were pressed up against one of the pillars that adorned the garden. Bella responded in kind, her hands raking through my hair to anchor them around my neck as I continued to kiss her. I left her lips to rain kisses across her face, her cheeks, and her neck. I wanted to kiss her everywhere, run away to find a priest and have him marry us before dragging her away to make her mine. I kissed down her collarbone, until the gauzy fabric of her dress stopped me.

"Edward?" Her eyes were wide as they stared at me. Her lips, even in the pale light of the moon, were already swollen from my rough kisses. Her hair was all over the place and even one of the laces at the shoulder looked as if it was torn. I was no better that Newton with the way I ravished her. I stepped back, shame coloring my cheeks, and refused to meet her eyes. I watched out the corner of my eye as she fixed her hair the best she could, even pulling out a leaf as she shook it out so it would take its natural wave down her shoulders.

"I guess you really like your present?" She laughed, reaching out and taking a hold of my face between her hands. "That was some kiss, Mr. Masen. Do you promise to kiss me like that every time I give you a present that you like?" she teased and I stiffened.

"I am sorry—" Her finger pressed against my lips to silence me.

"Do not apologize for loving me. You kissed me like you were never going to see me again, which is preposterous since I will see you tomorrow for brunch. My dress has a small tear in it, which I have taken care of as best I can. My lips are still pulsing and I can still taste you on them. Overall, I think I will survive, so there is no need for you to apologize. Now, I am going to stay out here for just a moment to enjoy the fresh air while you go in and distract our parents."

She all but pushed me back toward the garden doors, shooing me away as she blindly continued to fix her hair. As soon as I was back inside, I searched out my parents, who like in every party were busy talking among themselves. I watched the garden doors as she came in. Her hair was the biggest difference but nothing else really looked out of place. I pretended to be engaged in the conversation I was having with one of my father's business partners as she walked toward her mother to give her the pins that were in her hair. So that explained why it took so long to come in, her eyes sought mine out and she gave me a small smile. To avoid any problems, we kept our distance the rest of the night.

I was shocked to see the Swans approaching the exit as I stood by my parents to wish the guests good night as they left. At most parties, well at every party my family ever hosted, they were the last to leave, yet this time they were one of the firsts. I heard her father mention something about Bella having a headache, and I looked over at her. Her demeanor was completely different from earlier tonight. Her skin looked ashen and her eyes were shiny as if they have been crying.

"Are you okay, Bella?" I asked. She shook her head and muttered something about just needing to lie down. I had to stomp down the urge to take her in my arms, carry her upstairs to one of the guest rooms, and tend to her.

"I will be okay tomorrow," she said weakly. "Do not worry, Edward; I am sure to see you tomorrow, right?" I nodded, feeling like the worst fraud as I lied to her as she left with her family. I finished being a proper and thankful host to the other invitees as they left. As soon as the last person was gone and my parents retired for the night, I rushed upstairs. I grabbed the note I wanted to leave to my parents and snuck downstairs, leaving it on the grand piano. I would leave the note I wrote to Bella in her mailbox in the morning on my way to the train station. I returned to my room weary and exhausted. I wanted to sleep but knew that I could not if I wanted to make the train at dawn. I busied myself by packing my things quietly, my uniform lay on my bed, waiting for me to put it on. As the dark sky began to lighten, I started to change out of my party clothes. The material of the uniform felt stiff and itchy against my skin but I ignored it. I shoved my hands into the pants I had on the night before, digging for my ticket as I held my bag in my hand.

Cold dread filled me, turning my limbs to stone as I grasped the magnitude of my mistake. I had given Bella my handkerchief and with it my train ticket. She knew. She knew I was leaving and if I managed to make it out of the house, I knew she would be at the station waiting for me. I knew she would try to stop me, beg me not to go off to war. I could not let her; if she were there, I would make her understand that I was doing what was best for us. Slinging my bag across my back, I made my way downstairs as quietly as possible; I kept looking over my shoulder, waiting for one of my parents to halt me. I only stopped looking over my shoulder when I was outside, the door slowly closing as I sneaked out my house. Without another backward glance, I ran as fast as I could to the station.

* * *

_Author's Note:_  
Two chapters in a day, that surely makes up for missing a whole month right? The next chapter is already in the works, everyone knows whats coming right? It is going to get a lot darker, before it brightens up. As always, thanks for the all lovely reviews and recs! If you want 140 character teasers, follow me on twitter! I'm sanguinescript :D


	7. Chapter 7

_As always, thanks to the fine folk over at PTB, especially __mcc101180 and BelleDuJour for their fantastic work on this story. Please read the A/N at the end for some news regarding CM.  
_

_ETA: I reposting because I noticed a couple of errors that I thought I corrected before I posted yesterday. Sorry for the double notification, I'll make it up, I promise._

**BPOV**

_June 1918_

_Chicago_

It was dark when I slipped out of my home. I gripped the train ticket tightly in my fist, which was shoved into the pocket of my riding pants. I had tucked my hair into one of my father's old hats as I walked quickly to the train station. The morning's cold air stung at first, but it aided in calming me down. I had spent the night restless, staring at the ticket and confronting all the truths it held. Somehow, Edward had managed to enlist in the war, and he was leaving me without saying goodbye, without giving me a choice in the matter.

Now I understood his strange behavior that had confused me the last few weeks. When I joked the night before that he kissed me as if he was never going to see me again, he actually was feeling like that. I started to feel sorry for him, the burden of carrying such a secret, but anger mostly overrode every emotion that I was feeling. There were a few men at the station already by the time I reached it; mostly all of them were alone. At this ungodly hour, I doubted there were going to be families present to see the men off to war. I ducked my head down as I scanned the station looking for Edward. I hovered near the ticket counter as a gruff man stood by checking papers of the men reporting for duty.

"What do you mean you lost your ticket, kid?" I could not hear Edward's reply to the man collecting the tickets, and I could not move any closer because I did not want him to see me just yet. He stepped aside, his eyes looking at the station's entrance. He knew I had the ticket and was waiting for me. I watched as he walked down the platform, away from the ticket collector. Knowing him as I did, I bet he was hoping to catch me as I raced into the station after him. Little did he know that I was already there.

I walked behind him as silently as I could, until he was within arm's reach. There were so many things that I wanted to say—I wanted to cry and shout at him, beat him with my fists if I had to. Instead, I just placed my hand on his shoulder, startling him.

"Bella," Edward whispered, turning around to face me. "I know you have the ticket. I need it. I will not be able to get on without it."

"Why?" I asked.

"You know why," he hissed back, purposely keeping his tone low as he answered me. "I will go off to war, come back a hero. Come back good enough for you, and we can finally be together."

"Good enough for me? You are already good enough for me!" I replied hotly, trying to keep my tone low.

"Not to your father or mine. To them I am just a child, and they will meddle in our affairs until I show them otherwise," he shot back, his tone as sharp as mine.

"To hell with what they think!" I retorted, digging my nails into my palms to keep my tone low. "We have talked about this. If they do not let us be, we are going to leave when we turn eighteen."

"Bella, you do not understand—"

I felt painful little moons forming in the fleshy part of my palm as I argued with him. "You are right. I do not understand why you would leave me again after we just got back together, after we faced down our parents. Make me understand, because right now I simply do not get it."

He sighed angrily, his fingers raking his hair, a clear sign that he was frustrated. "This is why I did not want to tell you. I knew that you would react like this," he muttered.

"Tell me how I should be reacting, Edward!" I shouted at him, unable to keep my tone low anymore. I looked back to see that the approaching train had drowned out my outburst. "Should I be happy for you, cheer you on as you run off to join the war? Tell me how I should act in this situation because I do not know how to!" I glared at him through the tears that had started to make my vision blurry.

"That is my train," he said, looking past me to watch the train slowly pull into the station. Men in uniforms got off; some looked as young as Edward did, and others looked older. The man who had been collecting tickets shouted something about the train departure, but I could not hear him over the sounds that came alive in the station.

"I will be fine," he said, closing the distance between us and trying to hug me. I shoved him away angrily.

"This is not cowboys and Indians! You could get hurt, you could die, and I would have never known. You did not even say goodbye!"

"I left you a letter in your mailbox," he said, taking a step toward me. "I could not face you because I did not want to see you like this. I knew that you would not understand that I am doing this for us. This is for the best." He reached out for me again, and I stepped back, shoving his hands away.

"This is for us? You have given me no choice in the matter!" I snapped angrily. "I just got you back; I do not want to lose you. Please do not do this." I did not push him away when he reached out for me again, and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him.

"I will be okay, Bella, I promise," he whispered, kissing my forehead as he brushed away the tears from my cheeks. "I will come back to you, I swear it." His lips found mine, the kiss paling in comparison to the one he gave me yesterday. His lips barely ghosted over mine before he pulled back. "I need you give me the ticket. I need you to let me go."

"I cannot," I replied. "I—we can find another way to deal. We can run away together right now if you want, but do not ask me to let you go into a dangerous war. I just cannot." I did not see or hear the man approaching us, and by the look on Edward's face, the man's presence startled him too. The man's face was somewhat familiar to me, but I could not quite recall from where I knew him.

"Dr. Cullen, you startled me," Edward said as he moved to stand beside me. "This is Isabella Swan. Do you remember her?"

The doctor stared at me, taking in the odd manner of my dress. "Vaguely," he replied as his eyes went from Edward to me. "I can see that she came here to persuade you away from this endeavor, and by her tears, it looks as if it is all in vain."

I bristled at his almost clinical reading of the situation. "You are going off to war too, Dr. Cullen?" I asked, stating the obvious.

"I am. I have been in Chicago for quite some time and was contemplating moving. I have heard that there is need of good men and even better doctors in the war to keep the men alive. Now if you will excuse me…" he said, before stepping around us and heading down to where the train was waiting.

"Bella, my ticket, please…" Edward insisted as I watched the strange doctor walk away. I could not willingly give it to him; I could not go along with this plan as much as he wanted me to. It would have to be his choice—the ticket or me.

"Please do not do this," I said again as I held up the ticket. "Pick me, pick us. Together we can find a way, but if you go, it is not guaranteed that you will come back." The bitter taste of rejection made my stomach clench as he took his ticket out of my hand. His lips brushed against the back of my hand, up to my cheek, and across my forehead, before softly kissing me again.

"I will come back for you, I promise!" He pulled me against him once more, his face buried in the crook of my neck. For a slight second, I thought he was wavering in his decision, but I was wrong. With one last hastily placed kiss against my temple, he turned away from me, racing down the platform toward the ticket collector. I stood frozen as Edward finally boarded, just as last call was announced. I noticed that the doctor had still not boarded the train. Was he having second thoughts? I looked toward the entrance to see if anyone was coming to see him off or to talk him out of going.

I did not know I had moved until I had reached the doctor's side. "Dr. Cullen, wait! Please watch out for Edward," I cried, moving to clutch at the man's arm. I pulled back at the extremely cold sensation that greeted me. "Please. Please make sure that Edward comes back home to me. I do not know how to live without him."

"I will, Ms. Swan. I promise to do my best to make sure he comes back to you." With those last words, he boarded, disappearing from my sight. I watched as it slowly pulled out of the station, my heart sinking. Edward was on that train, leaving me and heading toward an unknown future. It was almost out of my line of vision when I saw him. He had pushed the window open, and his copper-colored hair caught the very early morning sun. "I love you always, Bella!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice fading as the train finally disappeared out of the station. I swallowed the sob that wanted to rip out of me; I focused on just breathing and moving my legs toward one of the empty benches on the station. I sat there for minutes, maybe hours; I could not tell and I did not care. I watched the storm come in, the type of summer storm I used to love running around in with him when we were kids.

I walked home in the downpour and was thoroughly soaked before I was halfway there. By the time I reached my house, all I wanted was a warm bath and my bed. I expected chaos when I walked in, but what greeted me was stunned silence. Mrs. Masen looked past me, expecting to see Edward behind me.

"I am sorry," I said, as I hopelessly stood there, cold and drenched to the bone with a puddle of rainwater forming around my feet. "He is gone." A part of me was gone too. My hope was now forever poisoned by despair, and there would be no cure until he returned. My dream of happily ever after was tainted with hellish nightmares of the horrors that could befall him.

_Mid July_

My beloved Chicago was on fire once more, except that Mrs. O'Leary's cow could not be blamed for this one. The flu pandemic that struck Europe had made its way to the States. I was too wrapped up in my worry about Edward's safety to notice how it took over the city, but I could not ignore it anymore. Nellie, my beloved chaperone, baker of tarts and confidant, succumbed first to the flu. I stopped reading the papers; I could not bear to see how the numbers of sick and dying rose unchecked on a daily basis.

After a little while, I did not need to read the papers to know the horrors that the flu pandemic was wrecking on Chicagoans. Mr. Masen was the next person to die of the flu, and soon after, my mother. Any anger or ill feeling that I harbored toward them faded with each day they were sick. It was a shock to see my mother so frail, so sickly, and although my father banned me from their bedroom, I still caught glimpses of her coughing up blood. She tried to lock herself away, as if a door would spare my father and me. By the time she was taken to the hospital, she was delirious from the fever and I knew in my heart that she was on death's door.

On the war front, the news was all the same. Reports came in that armies from both camps were stationed in the Somme again. This time, however, things looked favorable for us. Although the news tried to keep a positive spin on the war now that we were seriously involved, it did not take much to see that we lost a lot of men on a daily basis. The war was not in our favor. We Americans came in late and had little knowledge of the terrain. I wished the war would finish quickly, but there was no clear end in sight. I wondered where Edward was, and how he was doing. I hoped that his ridiculous ruse was discovered and they were shipping him back the first chance they got. A part of me was glad he was not around to see Chicago devastated by the pandemic. The other part, the part of me that knew I was not going to live to see him again, wished he were here. At least we would be together to die.

_Late August_

Nellie, Mr. Masen, and my mother were dead. My father was in the hospital, and as much as Mrs. Masen tried to hide it from me, she was already showing early signs that she was sick too. I visited my father, who promptly attempted to have me thrown out of the hospital. I visited daily, holding his hand when he slept and calmly trying to soothe him in the few moments of clarity that he had. He apologized almost every time he was lucid, explaining that he was only trying to do what was right for me. He went on to say that he understood now how wrong he had gone about things. He wept over my mother's passing and about how much he missed her. It was so strange to see him cry. I consoled him as best I could, telling him that they would soon be together. I would be an orphan before I turned seventeen—this was something that I did not let myself contemplate too much. Such thoughts just only compounded on my sadness and aggravated the cough I was desperately trying to ignore.

"No other child has come to visit their dying parent in the hospital except for you, Ms. Swan. I would warn you to stay away, before the flu sinks its hooks into you, but I have heard from the morning staff that you are quite stubborn." I was walking home late and was startled to hear Dr. Romano's voice. He was the evening doctor now that Dr. Cullen had gone off to war. With so many ill and the fear of contracting the flu high, the streets of the city were actually safe to walk at night alone.

"Dr. Romano, you startled me," I said, trying to suppress my shriek of alarm.

"It was not my intention, I assure you. I apologize. However, you really should not be out here alone nor should you be in the hospital visiting."

I frowned at his words. I was tired of the adults in the hospital trying to rule over me. My sole remaining parent was dying. Was I to stay home and work on my embroidery? The world was in flames, and these people cared whether I spent too much time in a hospital. I wished I could read these peoples' thoughts so I could comprehend their reasoning. Did they not realize that I was dying already? Grief over my parents, worry about Edward, had been sucking the life out of me for weeks already.

"I have nowhere else to go, Dr. Romano. Within a day or two, Mrs. Masen will have to be checked into the hospital. I have no family in this city, no one to take care of me out here," I replied bitterly.

"I would offer to escort you home—"

I shook my head, dismissing his offer. He was needed there way more than I needed him to see me safely home.

_September_

I was an orphan a week before I turned seventeen. My symptoms were getting worse, but I used heavy makeup to mask the shadows under my eyes and layers to keep the chills at bay. Mrs. Masen was too far gone to notice how sick I really was, but Romano apparently was not so easily fooled. With no one at home, I began to sleep in the hospital some nights to conserve my strength by not trekking back and forth. This was heavily frowned upon, but most nurses did not care as long as I was not in their way. I did not need to be a mind reader to see how they pitied me.

As my health started to wane, I wrote Edward letters every day, sometimes twice daily. I knew I would die long before the war ended, and I would never see him again. I wrote knowing well that maybe these letters were in vain, that he could be injured, dying somewhere in Europe. Mrs. Masen gave me access to her family's safety deposit box at the bank. Once a week, when I was feeling better, I would go drop off a bundle of notes I wrote for him. I merged our families' accounts, knowing well that I was going to die soon. If by some miracle he managed to survive this horrible war, he would need the money I left him.

My arms were wrapped tightly around me as I walked slowly toward my house. Every step I took wracked my body, and I shivered from the cold. I ignored it, focusing on keeping one foot simply in front of the other. I was in so much pain that even my eyes ached and my vision swam. I just wanted to rest and I would, as soon as I got home, but I did not make it. Darkness gathered, and I knew that I was fainting. I felt ridiculous and then I felt nothing.

"Doctor...you have to save her. Please."

"I will do what I can, Mrs. Masen."

"No! You must save her, promise me. Promise me that you will save her. Do everything in your power…"

"I promise."

All these voices sounded so far in the distance, but I knew they were closer. I almost wished I were sleeping. It hurt when the fever diminished for a while and left me lucid. I was dying, another body in another hospital bed. It was so unfair that I wanted to cry. I would never grow old with Edward, or do all the other countless things I thought I had a lifetime to do. I saw the pity on the nurses' faces. I could almost read their thoughts.

"Isabella, can you hear me?" I had no energy to turn toward the sound of his voice, but I knew he was in my room. It was too dark to see, but I felt his coldness against my damp skin. "I am sorry for what I am about to do. I promised Mrs. Masen that I would do all within my power." I could not see him, but I felt his cold fingers grazing the side of my neck, then a sharp sting before I succumbed to the flames.

**EPOV**

_Mid-August _

_Somme, France_

Wars were where boys go to become men, and men go off to die. I was a boy when I joined this war, and as much as I hated my recruiter when he called me one, he was right. War was hell incarnate, and the flames rained on us in the form of bullets and bombs at all hours of the day. My saving grace was that I was a quick shot and had even quicker legs that got me out of a few jams. Carlisle, or "Doc" as the infantry came to call the medical officer, was true to his word about taking care of me. I owed him my life, I knew that much. If we made it out alive, I would forever be in his debt and would follow in his footsteps by becoming a doctor. Many of the men were not too keen on his pinching the liquor to use it to sterilize the wounds of the injured—to which he replied that it was better this way, since they could not drink if they were dead. I had been stationed here for weeks, living under the heavy clouds of gun smoke that all but washed out the sun. I tried not to think of Bella, because thinking of her was a distraction that I could not afford. Even on the front lines, we heard about the havoc that the flu pandemic had created in cities all around the world. Some of the men worried they would not have families to return to if the pandemic continued for much longer. When I was able to sleep, I prayed for her safekeeping. I prayed that this illness never reached her or the rest of our families.

I noticed that Carlisle seldom slept, always offering to be the first to take the watch post when night fell. He had saved us more than once during the German nighttime raids. We Americans were a sorry lot, or at least that was what the British thought of us. They were thankful for us, but resented that we waited so long to join the war. My ruse had been discovered weeks ago, but we were already in Europe and every man was needed. I was the runt of the pack, and my fellow soldiers made sure I did not forget it.

If war was hell, then the prospect of going home was heaven to us. The trenches were the worst place in the world to be. We slept in dirt and danced with death, but all of us dreamed of returning home. In between the firing and bombs, we talked about home, our parents, and those of us with girlfriends talked endlessly about our girls. Carlisle was oddly quiet during these times, always on guard while these talks occurred.

_September_

After Somme, my squadron moved forward, and after weeks of battle, we Americans, Brits and Canadians breached German lines. The stench of death did not bother me anymore, and my days blurred together. I knew that it was September and Bella's birthday was probably a few days away. I avoided looking at the one dingy calendar that marked the days we had been in this trench, scratching and fighting the Germans who were stationed nearby and desperate to hold this line after losing at Somme.

I was sick of the war, sick of seeing good men dying all around me. I no longer looked at things with the same boyish innocence. I was no damn hero; I was merely a solider, food for the war. Soon enough, my good luck would run out and I would die here. I thought about dying as much as I thought about Bella. A sense of dread had rooted itself in the pit of my stomach, and I was not alone in my worries. It was as if I could read the thoughts of the men around me; something foul was in the air. I volunteered to take the first watch post that night to avoid the nightmares that had become an unwanted companion.

I woke to the sound of screaming and the loud pop of gunfire. The Germans were attacking, one of their devilish nighttime raids. Cursing, I ran for cover, shooting blindly in my panic. The noises were disorienting, and I tried to shake myself awake as I fired in the direction I felt the shots were coming from. I heard the Germans screaming, no need for a translation to deduce that they were cursing us. Another bright flash blinded me, and I felt the heat of the fire as the blast blew me back. I landed hard on my side. I did not need Carlisle to tell me that I had sustained broken ribs. The Germans bombed our trenches to force us to evacuate. I scrambled up and out, leaving the flames behind. I felt the bullets wheezing past me as I raced, looking for cover. Pain bloomed in my side, and I knew that I was hit. I went down, shooting as calmly as possible, stomping down the panic that threatened to take over.

One of my shots must have hit one of those bastards because I heard their cry of pain. Blood poured into my eye, and I reached up to brush it away. I must have hit my head and not realized it. I continued to shoot until I ran out of bullets. Half of my body was cold, and the other was on fire. I knew this was the end of me. I turned over to lie on my back and stared up at the stars as my vision started to flicker.

"Edward! Edward!" I had no strength to turn my head, but it sounded like Carlisle was calling for me. I wanted to shout his name, but my mouth was flooded with dirt and blood. I was dying in a pool of it. I was so cold that I almost welcomed the warmth my spilled blood provided.

"Edward, my God," he said, kneeling before me. He pulled his hand back, and it was bright red with my blood. He stared at it for a moment before turning his eyes back to me. He pushed away my clothing, assessing my injuries as if he was going to tend to me. He would have to be a divine doctor to heal my injuries.

"I am dying," I whispered sadly. "In my pocket...I have a letter for Bella…please make sure she gets it. Tell her—tell her I am sorry."

Carlisle nodded, still looking at me, the blood pooled at my side. "I made a promise to you, Edward, and I failed. I will make sure your Bella gets your letter, but you will not die tonight or any other." His words confused me, but then it did not matter. He turned my head to the side and bit down hard. The coldness was replaced with heat too hot to bear. I was burning. This had to be death, and I would never see my beloved again.

xxx

_Maybe I did something wrong? _

I frowned as I opened my eyes; my eyes must be achy because the light was too bright to tolerate. My throat hurt and my body felt strange. What was wrong? Wait, where was I? Why did my throat feel as if someone shoved a hot poker down it?

"Edward?" I stared up at the man looking at me. I knew him, or at least I think I did. He looked confused, but I could not tell why.

_I wonder if he is okay? I could only remember how thirsty I was._

"I am okay, but I am very thirsty." I was so thirsty that it was all I could think of since I woke up.

The man leaned away from me, confusion knitting his brows together. _He cannot be reading my thoughts. I have never met someone besides Aro who could do that. _

"I do not know anyone named Aro. Is it short for something else?" The man's eyes widened in shock.

_Can you hear me? _

"Of course I can—you are standing right next to me. I am not deaf," I replied.

"Edward, I have not said a single word out loud. You are reading my thoughts."

"That is silly." I snorted, standing up. The burning in my throat was making it difficult to concentrate. "I need to get something to drink."

"Look at me. I have something to say to you." _You can somehow read my thoughts. I do not know how, but you can. I have so much to explain. First, I need to tell you what you are, what I am. _

I nodded, unable to speak. Maybe if I entertained him, he would let me go so I could get something to drink.

"I am a vampire." _The burning in your throat is your need to feed on blood. _"You are one too now, Edward."

* * *

**Author's Note**

_Happy 4__th__ of July for those living in the States, enjoy the long holiday weekend! For the rest of the world, happy Thursday/Friday.  
_

_I am totally blown away by all the reviews that have poured in since I last updated. I'll like to thank those of you that have taken the time to leave a review, to favorite it, or to recommend the story to others. It's fantastic to see so many people enjoying the story. I hope you all like the new summary and title, I think it better represents the mood of the story.  
_

_In other news, I'm on twitter! if you're so inclined to follow me, I'm sanguinescript. I post a CM teaser at least every other day and babble a lot. If 140 characters teasers aren't your thing, I'm also submitting teasers to FicCentral, and those go up every Wednesday. My very first teaser was posted yesterday, so please check it out at ficcentral dot com /2013/07/teasers/fic-bites-teasers-07032013/_

_Finally, I posted the first outtake to CM a few days ago. If you want to see how Carlisle reacted to another vampire doctor, make sure to read it.  
_


	8. Chapter 8

_Please note that this chapter truly merits its M rating. Thanks to mcc101180 and BelleDuJour for their awesome beta work. Also, make sure to read the A/N at the end._

**BPOV**  
_Louisiana, 1920 _

_How am I going to give her such bad news? _

I heard Gregorio as he approached our home, and I still found it so disconcerting that his thoughts were as open to me like as a book. The first six months after my change I could not stand being in the same room with him, his thoughts a constant buzzing in my head that I could not switch off. It took a whole year before I could be near humans without wanting to tear into their throats. Most of the time it was not the thirst that drove me, but the desire to silence their thoughts.

"Best tell me already," I replied, already at the door to greet him. I tried my hardest to ignore his thoughts, but he was already trying to block me. He had only managed to guard his thoughts from me out three times in the last two years since changing me; the news indeed must be bad. I was clinging desperately to the idea that Edward had made it back alive. If by some miracle he had, I would be on my way back to Chicago tonight. His thoughts were as blank as he could make them, but I saw bits and pieces as he recalled parts of his trip. He was thinking about plots in Graceland Cemetery, and that was all the confirmation I needed.

"When did they find his remains?" I whispered, moving to sink into the large couch that took up most of our living room.

"I am so sorry. I know how you much you had hoped that he was still alive. He is interred with the rest of his family. His final place is next to yours—well, what people think is yours.

I nodded meekly as he talked. I saw more of the cemetery in his thoughts and flinched. I was dead to the world and so was Edward, but unlike me, he was truly dead.

"My contact at the bank also informed me that the Masen safety deposit box had been cleaned out, except for a letter that was found with Edward's body, and ultimately helped in identifying him. It appears as if it was left behind by mistake, so I took it and started to read it, but stopped when I saw that it was addressed to you. I have it with me," he said, holding the letter almost gingerly in his hand.

The letter was slightly crumpled, and it carried the faintest smell of old blood. I did not need my talent to know what Gregorio was thinking—that it was probably Edward's blood. I tried to ignore the smell as I took the letter with fingers that would have been shaking if I were still human and began to read.

_Bella,_

_I have written this letter so many times because I want it to be perfect. I wanted to convey everything I have to say to you flawlessly. Hopefully, we will read this together some day on a porch, wrinkled by age and reminiscing about our youth. That is what I dream about, but reality is wholeheartedly different. _

_If you are reading this and I am not with you, it is because death, the only thing more powerful than my love for you, has claimed me. I am sorry because I know that I am at fault for this. I thought I was doing the right thing for us. I wanted us to be happy together upon my triumphant return._

_You must be happy, Bella. The world will be a better place after the war, and you have to embrace it. You must live, dance, and fall in love again. A better man than me is out there for you, and although I must admit that jealously seizes me at the thought, I know it is only fair. Take care of my parents, especially my mother. Tell her that I love her. Tell our fathers that I forgive them, and be their strength as you have always been mine. _

_I will always love you. In another life, the happiness that we are so cruelly denied now will be given to us. I only beg your forgiveness at all the pain I am causing you. _

_Yours eternally,  
Edward Anthony Masen, Jr._

I crushed the letter in my fist and was out of the door so fast that I knew it was torn off at the hinges. Gregorio's thoughts faded with every mile I ran. I could not tolerate his concern. I hated him—hated the fact that I was alive and Edward was dead. I had an eternity to look forward to without the one person I wanted. As I ran, the backwoods gave way to neater streets and the endless stream of thoughts of those around me. I inhaled the scent of healthy blood, letting it rip through me. My throat was on fire, and for a second, it hurt more than losing him. Every trip to the city was an exercise in control around humans. Learning how to tune out their thoughts as much as possible, how to leash my thirst for blood. I all but threw open the doors of my mind to let their thoughts run free; I wanted to lose myself in them. Drown and never resurface.

I was out far past the time for a respectable woman, and in retrospect, I probably did look like a lady of loose values. My shoes were dirty, my stockings ripped and torn from the run. I did not know what time it was, having lost my watch somewhere on the run here, but it was probably near midnight. Most of the thoughts around me were hazy, drunken ramblings that made no sense.

"Hey, sugar, how 'bout keeping us some company?" I ignored the man and his friends who catcalled me. The trio of drunks did not pose a threat—they had to be so inebriated that their sense of preservation was shut off. I kept walking, only to slow when I realized they were following me.

"Hey, princess, we called you. Looks like you had a rough night. Let us make it better, baby." I looked up to see that I had walked into a dead end street. The houses on the other side of the road clearly looked abandoned.

"Leave," I hissed. They laughed, too far gone in their drinks to care. I focused on their thoughts, breaking past the alcohol-fueled fogginess. I shoved away the disgusting thoughts of what they wanted to do to me, and I saw the hazy faces of their other victims. Was this the better world that Edward wrote about? The ringleader reached out for me with meaty fists that grabbed nothing but air instead of my blouse. I gripped his arm, twisting it viciously as his bones cracked like china in my hand. I shoved him hard, a part of me smiling at the audible crunch as he slumped to the ground. I turned to see his cronies running away from me as if the Devil was on their heels.

I turned with a snarl to the man and grabbed him by his throat. His fingers clawed at my hand desperately to no avail. All I could think about was that Edward had died for this scum. The world was not going to be better, because men like this waste of space still crawled upon it. I took glee in the sheer terror of his thoughts. How many of his victims had felt like he did now? I saw all of their faces, the tears and fears that he ignored as he abused them. One face in particular stood out to me. The girl looked different from what she looked like at the hospital. Her face was bruised and swollen, and the injuries were worse throughout her body. The doctors did what they could, and in the end, they gave her sedatives for the pain, hoping to keep her medicated enough that she would pass away in her sleep. She had been so sedated that her blood tasted odder than usual when I drank her. Even in her deep sedation, her flickering thoughts—anger at what occurred to her—flooded me with every swallow of her blood.

I yanked his head to the side, snapping his jawbone by the sound of it before ripping into his throat. Every mouthful of his blood was tastier than all the blood I have ever drank in a hospital. I savored the gurgling that died in his throat as he tried to scream. In that moment, I forgot everything my maker had spent the last two years teaching me. I forgot my pain, the ache in my heart over Edward's loss. I let the body go as his heart gave out; I was already tracking the other men's thoughts before his body hit the ground. The second kill was with less flair, but I enjoyed it just the same. The more blood I drank, the farther away I got from the pain.

The third man had witnessed what happened to his friends, having lingered behind far too long. Panic peppered his thoughts, and so did glimpses of a battered wife at home. The images were a mockery of everything I lost two years ago. Marriage, family, a home—all of the things I wanted, and had dreamed about while alive—he defiled. I felt sick to see his thoughts, to know that he did not care for his wife and wished the babe he put in her gone. Such a precious gift and this miscreant squandered it. My teeth never tore his flesh. I was so fueled by anger and a dark jealousy that his blood trickled down my arm as I stared at his heart in my hand.

"Isabella!"

In my bloodlust haze, I had not heard Gregorio's approach. His shock, worry, and overall disappointment slammed into my head, but it was the last thought I latched on to. "You should have let me die and saved yourself this disappointment." All of this was his fault. If he had only let me die, I would not be here. "I hate you! I wish you have never changed me!" I threw the man's heart at his feet and ran in the opposite direction. I never wanted to see Gregorio again. Although I was not thirsty, I wanted blood again. It was the only way to sever the pain I felt when I thought about all I had lost. Healthy blood was so different, sweeter than the blood of those at death's door. A part of me knew that I could not drink the blood of the innocent, but the vile thoughts of criminals around me would provide the richer sustenance I now craved.

_Los Angeles, 1936_

The man following me would not be able to hurt a babe, let alone a vampire. While he was stalking me, I was stalking the man that followed him. The depression pushed humans to the limits, desperate times calling for desperate measures. For the dregs of society, the depression was a jackpot. They feasted on the fears of decent Joes and Janes who were struggling to make it in a world that was increasingly not in their favor. For me, it was a nightly buffet—while they preyed on the weak, I preyed on them. I was the wolf in lamb's clothing—none of my victims knew it, until it was too late.

The man following me did not have any of the finesse that my usual meals believed they did. He was making too much noise, loud enough that even a human could hear him. He palmed the knife in his hand as he prayed that I would give him my money without much of a fight so he would not have to hurt me. The guy behind him was seething, his anger spiking every time a noise was made. His patience had worn thin, and he lunged, knifing the man behind me and charging at me. I felt my monster roar to life when I smelled the blood in the air. Venom pumped into my mouth, coating my teeth in anticipation. Had my intended meal been a smarter man, the fact that I did not scream in panic, or run away like any human woman would have done, should have tipped him off that something was terribly wrong. His prideful thoughts told him that I was so scared that my fear rooted me in my place.

"C'mon, bitch, do not just stand there. Empty that purse. If you are a good girl, I will let you walk back home. You will walk funny, but you will thank me later."

"Let me thank you now," I replied, dropping my purse and pounced on him. His scream died in his throat as my teeth clamped down on his neck. I pulled on his vein hard, my arms wrapped so tightly around him that his arms were shattered. I pulled back just as his heartbeat slowed, his thoughts beginning to flicker. With a contented sigh, I pushed his body away and began walking toward my purse. In my blood high, I had forgotten about the other man, who was bleeding so profusely that he would die unless he received medical attention. It pained me to walk over to him, gritting my teeth to avoid drinking his blood. The man after all was innocent—his desperation to bring home food to his very pregnant wife and children was the driving force behind why he wanted to rob me. I picked him up and sprinted toward the nearest hospital with the intention of leaving him there. Even during the depression, Los Angeles was a crazy city, and no one would ask a lot of questions about a bleeding man being dumped at a hospital. I let his body down to lean heavily against mine as I pretended to struggle under his weight as I brought him in. I played up my hysterics, babbling incoherently as the man was carried away by nurses. Once I saw him go, I decided it was a good time to make my exit. I felt my maker's presence in the hospital and wanted to leave before he sensed mine.

_Isabella?_

I gritted my teeth in frustration. Of course, Gregorio would sense me and would want to contact me. I ignored the call, walking quickly to leave. Hearing him say my name brought up other feelings. I missed the easy relationship that flourished after my change. He was like a father to me, and as much as I hated admitting it to myself, I had missed him these last few years. I followed the exit signs as fast as humanly possible. I breathed a sigh of relief as I spotted the exit, and looking over my shoulder to make sure there were no humans in the corridor, I sprinted to the doors with all of my unnatural speed, almost breaking them in my haste to get away.

_Isabella! I know you can hear me. Do not leave, please just wait. I have been so worried about you. _

I faltered slightly, a part of me wanting to see him, to make sure he was okay, but I ignored it. I picked up my pace now that I was outside, knowing that he was slowed down by the need to keep a human appearance. By the time he reached the exit, he realized I was long out of reach.

_I have missed you, Isabella. I have worried about you. You are always welcomed back home. If you can hear this, I will always love you like the daughter I never had. _

_Chicago, 1943  
Graceland Cemetery _

"You know, Edward, this is the first time I have come to see you. I am sorry that it has taken almost twenty-five years." I brushed my fingers reverently over his name on the gravestone. Most of the graves in this area were weathered with time, but not his. Nor his parents, or mine. I never thanked Gregorio for ensuring that they were buried together, but I was thankful for this gift.

"I was told that my human memories would fade, and to some effect it is true. I cannot recall what my parents looked like or what they sounded like, but I can remember you with exquisite detail. You know that old saying about time being able to heal all wounds? It is a damn farce, Edward. I have lived with a vicious gaping wound where my heart used to be all this time. There is no rest for me. I cannot even close my eyes and dream about you." Reaching into the back pocket of my travelling pants, I pulled out his letter. The ink had faded with the years, but I had every word memorized by heart.

"The world is not a better place, Edward. I have not lived or danced. I have not been happy. My world is nothing but endless nights, filled not with song, but with the frantic screams of the humans that I kill. It is only in the act of drinking their blood, of listening to their thoughts as they die, that I escape the pain. I am still angry that you left; I still mourn your passing. I still love you, but it is killing me. I cannot live like this anymore."

I paused, taking a deep breath that I did not need. "I would trade a thousand lives, a thousand times over if I could have you here with me, but that will not happen. I have heard there is a vampire in Italy that can help me. She can manipulate emotional ties, even break them, so I have heard. I need to truly let you go if I am ever to live, so I am going to see her. I did not want to leave without saying goodbye to you." I closed my eyes as I neatly tore apart his letter, letting the cool night breeze blow the pieces away as I reached for the locket around my neck. "I do not know if the claims are true, but I need to try." The chain snapped easily as I popped the locket open to stare at the picture inside one last time. With the heel of my shoe, I made a hole in the ground and dropped the locket.

I stood and walked way, easily vaulting over the sealed gates. I huddled into my coat, to present the image of being cold to the few humans walking on Sheridan Road. I ignored the urge to return back to Edward's grave. The absence of locket against my skin felt so strange, but I soldiered on. That girl did not exist anymore. To find any peace in this life, I needed to let go. In the next few weeks, I would arrive in Europe, make my way toward Italy, and eventually to Volterra, home of the Volturi. I would either sever my emotional link or ask for my death. That was all I needed to focus on; nothing else mattered.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_

Hey guys, I'm so thankful for all the awesome reviews I've gotten! CM was nominated for Fic of the Week over at the Lemonade Stand, but didn't make the final cut. Just being nominated was great, so thanks to those of you who recommended the story!

I am also posting CM outtakes, so do check them out. I won't post them as frequently as I do the main story, so put it on your alerts so you won't miss out when I do post. Finally, back to back updates, so Edward's POV is going up right after this chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

_Same M warning as the last chapter! __Thanks mcc101180 and BelleDuJour for your awesome beta work :)  
_

**EPOV**  
_Chicago, 1919_

"I am sorry, Edward, but we should go. There is nothing left here for you."

"I want to see her. Where is she buried?"

_For his own good, I need to get him out of here. Distance and time are what he needs right now. In five years, he will not even remember the girl._

"You are wrong about this, Carlisle." I bit back the snarl that formed in my throat. "You lived your human life chasing witches and werewolves, the son of a pastor. I spent mine growing up knowing who I was going to marry, who I wanted to spend my life with. I may forget most of my human memories, but I will not forget her."

_I am sorry. I am just still in awe of you, of what you felt—feel for her. You were lucky to have her. Cherish her memories as long as you have them. I know that we came here in hopes of finding her alive, but she is dead. I can clearly see how much this hurts you. There is no need for you to go to her resting place. It is just going to make the pain worse._

"Just tell me," I pleaded again. He was thinking of what else to say when the name of the cemetery briefly flashed in his thoughts. He quickly thought of something else, but I had heard enough. I ran out of the house, leaving Carlisle standing alone in what was once my family's music room.

It took me a few minutes to find her, and a part of me wished I had listened to Carlisle. She was buried with her parents, who in turn were buried right next to me. Our graves were side by side, but I knew there was no one in mine. A pain worse than my thirst coursed through me—she was truly gone. The realization brought me to my knees in front of Bella's grave.

Isabella (Bella) Marie Swan  
September 13, 1901 – September 13, 1918  
Cherished daughter of Charles and Renee Swan  
Eternal beloved of Edward Anthony Masen, Jr.

A scan of the dates on the other graves brought up a fresh wave of pain. My Bella had died alone. She lived long enough to witness the passing of our parents.

"It is not fair! You were so young. I am so sorry, so very sorry, Bella. I should have stayed, I should have listened to you," I whispered, resting my fingers against her carved name. Had I stayed, we both would have most likely fallen victim to the flu. At the very least, we would have died together. As much as I lashed out at him, Carlisle was right. I have seen firsthand the haziness in his thoughts when he thinks about his human life.

"Edward, we have to go, the sun is about to rise." _I have been standing here for quite some time. I cannot believe that you did not hear my thoughts. _

I let him pull me to my feet. In all honesty, I wished that the threat of the sun was a real thing to our kind. I would lay here and let its rays claim me. It was not fair that I lived when I felt so dead and hollow.

"We can leave Chicago tonight. As soon as the bank opens for business, I will wire out the money in my account here, settle our final affairs. We can go wherever you want. I will let you decide."

I nodded, receding deeply into my own thoughts. Just like Carlisle said, there was nothing here for me. The Edward who left chasing boyish heroic dreams died last year. Everything that tied me to that boy had long been laid to rest in this cemetery. The emptiness I felt was all the reminder I needed.

_New York, 1935 _

_Oh, I so hope that Edward and Rosalie like each other. I wish he had come home sooner when we called him. I do not like it when he goes off by himself for so long; it is not healthy. Well, maybe it was for the best. She is not a newborn anymore, so they can probably make a better match now that she can focus on something else besides blood._

The first wave of Esme's thoughts stopped me mid-run—Carlisle turned another person? I was stunned, but quickly recovered, focusing my thoughts on the newest member of the family. Rosalie was not fond of this life; however, she did take comfort in the ethereal beauty bestowed upon us. I also noticed that she was a loud projector of whatever she was currently thinking, and if we were to live together, I would have to take great pains to tune out her thoughts. I went over Esme's thoughts and was horrified when I pieced it all together. Had Carlisle changed the girl with the hopes of her becoming my mate? I had half a mind to turn around and run back west.

_Ah, Edward is near, I can sense him! Hurry home, son!_

I frowned as my escape plot died as quickly as it was hatched; Carlisle had already felt my approach. I walked the rest of the way home, purposely giving myself an extra few minutes to think. The more I thought about things, the more all desire to see my parents dissipated—the absolute gall, the nerve of those two! I took an immediate dislike to Rosalie. Her thoughts were like those of countless other socialite women, who only thought about themselves. What were they thinking? Even if the ghost of Bella did not haunt me, I would never fall for a woman like that.

I knew the second when Esme and Rosalie sensed me; I heard movement in the house as my mother moved to open the door. "Welcome home. I have missed you," she said, enveloping me in a tight embrace. For a moment, I forgot that I was supposed to be upset with her. It was hard to begrudge her action when I knew that it was not done maliciously.

"Edward, there is someone I would like you to meet. Come, let us step into the living room." I stepped quickly out of Esme's embrace and walked stiffly toward the living room. Rosalie's thoughts were a loud buzzing in my head that only intensified once we were both in the same room.

"Hello, Rosalie. Welcome to the family." I held the desire to smile at her shock. She was told of my particular talent, but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely.

_You can hear my thoughts?_

"Yes."

"_Everything?"_

"Completely and thoroughly, Miss Hale," I replied.

_Edward! What are you doing? You are startling the poor girl!_

I cocked my head in Carlisle's direction at his unspoken comment. "Why would she be startled? She knows what we are, what I am. I just simply read her thoughts—it is what mind readers do. That being said, can you or Esme please explain what you were thinking when she was made?"

"I was saved from dying in a ditch due to the actions of the man who was supposed to marry me and his friends."

_I am the most beautiful thing in this room. How dare he—how dare you not acknowledge it? Oh, and to think about how beautifully Esme spoke about you, clearly you are not as smart as she made you out to be._

"Pardon me, but are you actually offended that I am not lavishing attention on you because you are pretty? Can you be any more vapid?"

"Edward, are you hungry? Did you eat on your way here?" Esme interjected, obviously trying to break up the brewing fight. "Would you like to go for a run?"

"Maybe he is," Rosalie replied for me, clearly put off that I was not worshiping the ground she stood on. "It would explain his odd behavior."

I did not take the bait, refusing to play the blonde's childish games. "No, I ate something yesterday, so I am not hungry, Esme. Is my room ready?"

"Yes, but since you were away when Carlisle and I moved to New York, we left most of your personal items boxed up. Rosalie was kind enough to help me unpack your books and pictures over the last few days." I bristled at the notion that the blonde had touched my things. I did not want her smell all over them—I did not even want to be in the same room with her.

**xxx**

The first few weeks back reminded me why I had grown fond of taking periodic trips that became longer and longer each time I left. Rosalie was insufferable, but we made a tentative peace for the sake of our adoptive parents. All her insults were mentally directed at me, and it only made her angrier when I ignored her. I made it a point never to be alone with her, because any time that occurred, her mind would eventually ponder why and how it was possible that I simply did not find her exquisite. Whenever Esme and Carlisle would leave, I would retire to my room and stay there until they returned. I ignored her as much as possible.

_I still cannot fathom why Edward does not like me. I am pretty. No, I am gorgeous. I am a great dancer, and a good conversationalist. I even play the piano, although he does it far better than I do. Could it be because of that girl I saw in the picture in his room? Oh, that is silly. That girl is probably no older than thirteen, maybe fourteen in that photo. It simply cannot be her; she is a child and was clearly not pretty. In fact, she is rather plain—_

"Shut up! You are not allowed to think about her ever!" I was in her face before it even registered in my head that I had moved. With a snarl, Rosalie pushed me back, sending me flying across the living room. I landed with a thud on floor.

"Do not ever dare get into my face like that again!" She yelled, her thoughts were angry, but not because I picked a human over her. While that offense would never be forgiven, my initial violent reaction to her thoughts was what set her off. For a second, she was frightened, her mind flared with images of her ex-fiancé and his friends, and she compared my actions to theirs.

I was appalled that she would think that. "I am nothing like Royce or his friends. You made me angry, but it was not my intention to scare you."

_All you men are alike. You probably think I deserved what happened to me._

"No! What the hell is wrong with you, woman? You may be infuriatingly annoying, and frankly I do not care much for you at all, but what happened to you was horrendous!"

I almost felt the anger seep out of her, only to be replaced by her indignation that the reason I was not all over her when we met was because I pined for someone else. I did not even need to pick at her thoughts—her revulsion was plain on her face.

"Really? You are pining for a human? That picture must have been taken in 1914, maybe 1915? She has to be in her thirties by now, probably already married if her father managed to tie some poor man to her…"

"Shut up, just shut up, Rosalie!" I pushed myself up from the floor and moved farther away from her. Just looking at her disgusted me. "The girl in the picture was my best friend before she died. Unlike you, I did not attach myself to someone I did not know simply because they were the best catch in town! I knew the person I love," I sneered at her. "Your beauty is only skin-deep. Everything else about you is disgustingly ugly. You hate being a vampire? Well, you are not the only one—every time I look at you, every single time you lament your change, I think that immortality would have been better gifted to her. My world would have been better for it."

"Love? You love her? You were probably just an infatuated brat!"

"At least I am not infatuated with my looks," I replied hotly. "Does anyone even miss you, Rosalie? That plain girl that you quickly dismiss has someone who mourned her passing. That is love, and if you ever find a mate, I will make sure to give him my condolences." I left the house the second I was done. I was not going to endure being under the same roof with her anymore. I ran until my head was blissfully silent with only my own thoughts to keep me company.

As soon as I sensed my parents nearby, I sought them out to explain why I was leaving again. Esme's thoughts were not too happy with my decision, but for once, I really did not care.

"You know Rosalie is right about one thing, son." I stared incredulously at Carlisle. "No, do not look at me like that. She is right in what she said about you pining. As long as you mourn the girl, you are living half a life."

"So I should just forget her? Is that what I should do? Return to the house with you two and take up with Rosalie? You have to be joking…" I replied bitterly.

"Well, definitely not Rosalie since you two can barely be civil to one another—" As Carlisle droned on, I wondered why he did not notify me sooner of her change.

"So the fact that you wanted to surprise me with a new mate was the reason why you never called me when you changed her? I would have come home sooner."

"No, she was not just changed for you. She was dying when I found her." _The state I found her in, it was horrible. That is why I allowed her to seek out vengeance, even if it goes against my principles. After she got her revenge, she settled down. That is when Esme and I thought that you two would make a lovely pair. She is beautiful and graceful, and she plays the piano. _

"She is vain, she is shallow, and the majority of her thoughts concern her needs and wants."

"You do not like her because you can hear her thoughts. If it was not for your talent, you would be enamored by her looks." Esme butted in, standing up for Rosalie.

"Indeed, she is very pretty—we cannot forget to mention enough times how pretty she is, but that is all she has to offer. I would not like her anyway, even if I did not know the contents of her thoughts. Her vanity pours out of her, Esme."

"Maybe you two got off on the wrong foot—"

"Enough!" I yelled and felt instantly chastised when she flinched at my outburst. For once, something other than calmness flickered across Carlisle's face.

"I do not care for the tone you are taking with my wife," he replied.

"And I do not care that you two are doing the same thing that my human parents did to me! You read my diary and letters to me, Carlisle. You of all people should know that I do not react well when people try to mettle in my life."

"I am sorry, I just wanted to see you happy—" Esme's apologetic tone made me feel like the worst sort of cad.

"I apologize for yelling at you. I know that ultimately your intent was pure. I just cannot deal with this right now. I am leaving. I will phone when I have settled in." Without looking back, I walked away from my parents again.

_Ohio, 1942_

I held the cup of coffee between my hands, playing along with the other humans who needed something warm to ward off the bitter winter chill. The U.S. was at war again, and that was the main thing on the minds of those around me.

_I do not care what my mama says, I am enlisting tomorrow! _

I turned slightly to catch a glimpse of the boy whose thoughts mirrored my own silly thoughts decades ago. Humans did not change; they were still driven by the same forces. Did he even know what he was going into? I looked away, seeking another mind whose thoughts were not driven by the war.

_Oh, James, you are a damn fool. Stay, just stay here in the middle of nowhere, safe with your ma and me. I just have a horrible feeling about all of this. I wish you knew what I was thinking, what I was feeling—if you did, you would not be so headstrong about going off to war. _

The thoughts of the girls and women being left behind were especially torturous. They only served to remind me that I had left Bella behind. It bothered me that I could no longer remember what she sounded like. The memory of what she looked like grew hazier with every passing year.

I dug my fingers into my thigh as I heard the waitress' thoughts. Had my Bella felt like this when I left her? I tipped my coffee, spilling the contents on the newspaper as the waitress, Victoria, sighed and rushed over. I felt sorry for her, for James, for all of them that were going to die needlessly. I pulled out enough cash to cover the bill and a large tip and just left her standing there. In a few months or so, if her James had his way, he would be dying in a ditch in Europe or the Pacific.

_Damn brat, I wish you would get drafted, thinking you are a man. Next time you get in my way when I am teaching your whore mother who is the boss, I am going to break my fist on your face. _

The man's vile thoughts were as sickening to me as the rest of his ilk, but what was most shocking was that I knew the man—knew of him. Time had not been kind to Esme's first husband. The physically dominating man was gone, and in his place was left an old brute. While I had held hard onto every human memory, she was too happy to let go of hers, opting instead to make new ones with us to be rid of everything that had to do with her ex. I quickened my pace, lest I gave into my urge to snap his neck in the middle of his diner.

**xxx**

It was a strange thing to see the country go off to war again. Another set of thoughts bother me, mainly because if I listen to them, I am in danger of violating Carlisle's rule about not drinking human blood. As more men left for war from the sleepy little town that I was currently living in, the louder the thoughts of those that I should ignore got. How were they any different from the animals that I feed off? Charles Everson was an animal that walked on two feet. Too old to go to off to war again, he relished as men he thought were competition were drafted.

I made the decision to kill him the morning I came into the diner and saw his wife with a vicious welt that shut her entire eye. To everyone who asked, she simply stated that she fell down trying to change a light bulb. The truth played out in flashes in her head every time she looked at her husband. Around the diner, within sight and earshot of human clients, Charles played the doting, concerned husband. It was a different scene when no one was around.

Esme's ex-husband loved to drink, and he loved gambling whatever money the diner made. If there was something he loved more than beating on those weaker than him, it was winning his card games. As I contemplated all the ways to kill him, I decided that mere death was too kind—he had to pay what he did to Esme, what he was doing to his wife, what he had done to all the women he had ever lifted a finger against.

It was easy to infiltrate the gambling den that Charles considered his home away from home. In a week, I out-played him twice. He recognized me from the diner, thinking I was going to be an easy win. The first time he lost, he called it a fluke. The second time, he said that beginner's luck was a beautiful thing to see. As the night progressed, and I handed him nothing but crushing defeat, he started to turn. I was accused of cheating. He suspected that I was counting cards, and as I won hand after hand, the accusations mounted.

After wiping the floor with him, I cashed out and bid the folks good night. I left knowing he was going to come after me. I wanted that; in fact, for the first time in a long time, I felt alive. I felt good. He thought he would easily overpower me, but how wrong he was. His thoughts turned from all the violent things he was planning to do, to sheer horror.

"You are hurting my arm! Look man, you can keep the money. I do not care, I have more." _I will just take it from the diner. If the bitch says anything, I will give her another shiner._

"It is disgusting the casual way you dismiss women. Your wife works hard, and I bet the diner would be doing better if you were not stealing from it all the time." I smiled at the panic in his thoughts, the sheer fear that was eating at him. "It is different when you are the one cowering in fear, is it not? Your wife is terrified of you, much like you are of me right now."

I tightened the grip on his arm, the bone quickly snapping. I cracked his jaw when my hand fell over his mouth to cover his scream. "You like violence, Everson. Why are you scared? Is it very different when the broken bones are yours? How will you explain this to others when they ask?"

He was whimpering, but with a broken jaw, it was impossible to understand what he was saying. "Do not talk; your thoughts are annoying enough. I have wanted to do this for a long time. You are just lucky that Esme was able to hold my hand so long."

_Esme? That bitch died years ago! Damn punk is high off something. Did my wife hire this kid? How the hell does he know about Esme? _

It took everything in me to not rip his throat out as I read his thoughts. I took comfort in the agony that replaced his thoughts when I slammed my foot against his leg.

"Esme is like a mother to me. I offered to kill you after my father changed her. She was in so much pain because of what you drove her to do. Can you believe she feels bad for wishing you had died when you were off at war? She took it back, because she felt it was wrong to wish ill upon another person." I laced my fingers with his, tightening my hold until the bones of his fingers popped and snapped.

"Then there is what she was thinking that she did not tell me. She knew that if life had not unraveled as it did, she would have not met my father. Esme is right, but she is too kind to wish you ill. I hope I have been gentle—"

_Gentle? What for?_

I had something else to say, I knew I did, but I could no longer keep my focus. I had already dropped the body in the dumpster when I realized what his last thought was about. I stared at his vacant eyes. "You were my first kill," I replied to the corpse. As I licked the residual blood on my lips, I knew that animal blood could not compare to human blood. It was mere sustenance, while the blood that coursed through me was pure nourishment. "You will not be my last."

* * *

**Author's Note**

_Quick note, while I do mess with the dates a little, Edward's side of story is going to follow the canon somewhat closely. The chapters are probably going to deviate from both Bella and Edward POVs to a singular POV update. _

_Finally, I'll like to thank everyone for the recs and reviews. _


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